Shadows and Dust
by Lil black dog
Summary: Sequel to 'Six Degrees of Separation.'  Can the big three survive without each other to lean on?  Can they find a way to repair the emotional wounds inflicted at the end of the 5-year mission?  It's a long, slow, painful process...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Sequel to 'Six Degrees of Separation,' this piece follows Kirk, McCoy, and Spock during the three years leading up to, encompassing, and shortly after TMP. Contains references to 'His Last Breath' and 'Learning Curve,' so it'd be helpful to read those works first. The time references (i.e. three months) refer to the amount of time that has passed since the end of the five-year mission.

Beta: All three of my betas are being pounded by RL of late, so while they have each provided comments early on that helped with the focus and direction of this piece, the vast majority was written without a safety net, so any problems with canon, characterization, grammar or style are all my own. Many thanks to Anna and Verenna, but especially to T'Paya, for squeezing me into their busy, hectic lives. :D

**Shadows and Dust**

Kirk – three months

He awoke, the brilliant sunlight streaming through the floor-length window, warming his face, clouding his vision with red as it beat against his closed eyelids.

Rolling over, he spared a glance at his chronometer: 06:37. He flopped back on the pillow, a groan escaping his lips. He'd been asleep for less than three hours, but knew that the elusive departure into oblivion, escape, was beyond him at this point.

Unfortunately, this day began with very little variance from all the rest of the days over the last three months – the time of day might change, the sunlight might be replaced with the sound of a driving rain, or be filtered through a thick San Francisco fog – but all his days had begun thus.

On this particular morning his next shift didn't start until 14:00, but it was useless to lie here – sleep would continue to evade his best efforts to recapture it. Visions of the mounds of paperwork that awaited him on his desk at the office only served to further sour his already grim mood. Even as captain of the _Enterprise_, paperwork had always been the bane of his existence. At least there he'd had Spock, who had shouldered a good portion of that burden for him.

Initially thoughts of Spock made the corners of his mouth turn up ever-so-slightly, but this feeling of normalcy, of business as usual was rapidly replaced with one of crushing grief as he remembered their current situation.

And he dreaded most what was to come next.

_My friend. What are you going through today? Are you working on banishing all emotion, all thoughts of your previous life? All thoughts of your friendships? Of McCoy? Of me? Part of me clung to the unrealistic hope that once you saw the tape you'd reconsider – not for my sake but for yours. This will leave an indelible mark on you, my friend, and not in a good way. There were other options open to you; you yourself told me about them. Anything would be preferable to sacrificing half of who you are. And the worst thing is I pushed you into this; I'll have this on my hands for the rest of my life. I've already lost everything; there's no point in you doing the same._

Steering his mind from thoughts of Spock, it now settled on McCoy. Kirk grinned subconsciously, despite the fact that he couldn't bring himself to call his friend and apologize. Yes, he missed the doctor as well, but was comforted by the fact that of the three of them, McCoy had been the only one with the foresight to do what was best for him.

Despite the fact that their last face-to-face meeting had been ugly – tempers had flared on both sides, McCoy severely chastising him for taking a ground position, Kirk stubbornly defending his decision – he at least knew the doctor cared – something he was unsure of where Spock was concerned. He couldn't help but take some small satisfaction in the fact that McCoy would now be berating his own clients to eat right, lose weight, get more sleep, and steer clear of any activity that could be even remotely deemed dangerous. After all, why should the good citizens of Georgia be deprived of his brusque, gruff bedside manner?

And McCoy was doing what he loved most – unencumbered by the limitations of a shipboard sickbay or the restrictions imposed by Starfleet medical. The doctor had told him that he intended to hang out his shingle in his old ancestral home. He'd have part of the ground floor converted to a state-of-the-art medical suite. He thought back to that evening, before the conversation had soured.

_In five years, I've managed to save quite a bit of my pay – what the hell did I have to spend it on anyway? – and now I feel like I should give back to the community that nurtured me as a child. My father left me the house when he died, and it's way too big for just me. Joanna is off doing her own thing, and I can't see myself getting married again, so I think I'll convert a good portion of the ground floor to a clinic..._

McCoy's face, which had been animated for the first time in months with a genuine passion, gradually faded from his vision, to be replaced with the austere walls of his bedroom. Maybe he'd driven Bones away, too but at least it had been a push in the right direction. Of the three of them, McCoy was the only one who'd done the right thing, made the right choice.

Knowing it would be pointless to remain in bed, he climbed to his feet, heading for the fresher. It was going to be another long day.

oooOOOooo

"Sir?"

He looked up from the stacks of reports covering his desk, trying mightily to curb his displeasure at being disturbed. Over the past week and a half, he'd made very little headway on the unruly pile. The young yeoman seemed to pick up on his train of thought.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Admiral, but you have a call. The Vulcan Ambassador's wife wishes to speak to you." The young man's confusion was evident – the Operations office as a rule didn't delve into diplomatic matters.

Kirk's frown melted into a slight smile. "That's fine, yeoman – patch her through; I'll take it in here."

"Yes sir, very good sir," the young man said, hurrying off to comply with the admiral's wishes.

Amanda's face soon filled the viewer on his desk. "Jim. You look well," she commented brightly.

He couldn't suppress an answering grin. "Thank you," he responded. "And you look stunning, as usual, Lady Amanda. To what do I owe the honor of this call?" he asked, inclining his head slightly toward the comm unit.

"Sarek and I are on Earth for a few days, and he is currently tied up in meetings here at the Embassy. I was wondering if I could trouble you to meet an old lady for lunch?"

He felt his stomach lurch. Did she have news of Spock? Was it something she didn't feel comfortable sharing over an open channel? Or perhaps among the super-sensitive Vulcan ears at the Embassy? He quickly shelved the uneasiness. "I'd be delighted. And for the record, it's been ages since I've had such a gracious and charming dining companion."

"Flatterer," she shot back, a wide smile making her eyes dance. "And it's been ages since I've dined with a bona fide hero," she countered, happy to play along. Again the unsettling feeling gripped him as he realized just how much he missed this kind of banter, this dry, laconic wit. Must be where Spock had learned it.

"You'll excuse me if I take exception to that description, but lunch sounds great if you'll still have me."

"Wonderful. It's all settled, then. Do you know where La Vaca Rústica is?"

"I know the place well. It's one of my favorite restaurants."

"Perfect. Meet you there in say, half an hour?"

"It's a date." He couldn't keep the mischievous grin from stealing over his features.

Her blue eyes sparkled in response. "Just don't tell my husband that – he _is_ a Vulcan after all. See you soon." The screen went blank to the sound of her gentle laughter.

oooOOOooo

As he entered the restaurant he automatically scanned the room. Years of command experience had taught him to constantly evaluate any given situation or location. That, at least, hadn't changed. He spotted Amanda, already seated at a table for two by a large row of windows. She caught his eye, too dignified to wave outright.

The maître d' approached rapidly. "May I help you," – quickly he inspected the insignia on Kirk's uniform – "Admiral?" Kirk usually came here in the evening; he didn't recognize this particular greeter.

"Thank you, but I'm meeting someone, and I see she's already here." He gestured toward Amanda's table.

"Ah yes. The Lady Amanda." He eyed Kirk appreciatively. "We are pleased whenever she graces us with her presence. If you'll follow me, sir."

The two wound their way through the maze of tables. "I'll send your server over right away Lady Amanda, Admiral," he said, nodding to each before retreating.

He settled himself in the seat across from her. Impulsively she reached out, covering his hand with her own. "Jim, it's so good to see you. Thank you for meeting me. I may live on Vulcan and while there eat and try to behave like a proper Vulcan wife, but I just can't resist coming here whenever we're in town. I guess it's my inner carnivore coming out." She grinned sheepishly.

"I must admit I was a little surprised when you mentioned this place, but now it makes perfect sense. It's where I always come when I want the best steak in town."

"And as you can imagine, it's not really Sarek's cup of tea. Oh I know he'd indulge me if I asked it of him, but I'd rather not have him watch me tear into and dispatch an oversized portion of animal flesh."

"Then the pleasure is all mine. Most of my dinner companions subscribe to the Leonard McCoy school of culinary delights – salads and tofu – so I'll enjoy dining with someone who can appreciate this food as much as I do."

As if on cue, their waiter appeared. "Ma'am, sir, are you ready to order?" he asked, deftly filling their glasses with ice water.

"Jim?" She turned to Kirk. "I always get the same thing whenever I come here. Not much of an adventurist, I'm afraid."

He found that hard to believe. Here was a woman who had given up everything to marry a man whose culture was totally different, completely alien to her. Not only had she become his wife, but she left behind everything she knew, abandoned her way of life to make a home on his world, among his people and their customs. Hardly a woman without grit, without an indomitable spirit. "Somehow I doubt that, but please go ahead."

"I'll have the queen cut of prime rib, medium rare, a baked potato with sour cream and steamed vegetables," she supplied quickly, decisively.

"And for you, Admiral?" their server asked, turning to Kirk.

"Who am I to disagree with the lady? I'll have the same," he informed the young man, shooting his companion a look of approval.

"Very good." The waiter hurried off to fill their requests.

She strove to fill the awkward silence that ensued. "Well, Jim, you look like you've lost weight."

How could he admit to her that he hadn't felt much like eating in the last few months? He was sure Spock wasn't exactly experiencing the full gamut of culinary delights, and his friend had always been thin, almost painfully so. Imagining that ascetic face even more pinched and angular than before never failed to cause a surge of guilt. Somehow, eating his fill just seemed inappropriate when he knew his friend was probably going hungry as a result of the severe path he had chosen. He closed his eyes briefly in an effort to banish the disturbing image. "You know, it's funny. Even though Dr. McCoy has returned to private practice in Georgia, I can still hear him admonishing me every time I try to eat something he wouldn't approve of. During our tenure on the _Enterprise_ he was constantly on me to watch my weight."

"Really? He seemed like such a sweet, compassionate man," she said with complete sincerity.

"Suffice it to say you don't know him like I do," he countered with a wry grin.

"Well no matter the reason, you look fit and trim, although I must admit that the new uniforms are…interesting to say the least," she commented, sipping from her water glass.

"An understatement if ever there was one." His look was playful, mischievous. "I must confess that they're very comfortable, but somehow it's hard to be taken seriously when you're wearing…pajamas to work."

She was unable to suppress a laugh at that, and he continued, glad to see her taking joy in something. A marked difference from the last time the two of them had spoken.

"I couldn't imagine trying to fight the Klingons wearing this – although it wouldn't be a fair fight – they'd probably die laughing."

She was giggling in earnest now, her demeanor relaxed, lighthearted. He couldn't help but join in.

They continued to make small talk, Amanda chattering excitedly about her garden back on Vulcan. It seemed hardly any time at all had passed when the waiter appeared, his tray laden with their meal.

"Well, here's to us carnivores," Amanda commented, saluting Kirk with her fork, her eyes flashing, her look teasing, before closing her eyes briefly in pure enjoyment as she slowly savored the rich, tender cut of beef.

"This is fabulous," Kirk said appreciatively, downing his first bite. "I've never tried the prime rib here, but you've made a convert out of me. I'll definitely be having this again." He swiped at his mouth, wiping the juice dribbling down his chin with his napkin.

She smiled thinly at him, her brow crinkling in stark contrast to his last comment. She lowered her fork, her gaze intent upon his. "Jim, I hate to pry, but I was wondering if you've heard anything from Spock?" She had stopped eating and was regarding him keenly.

"You're not prying – your concern is understandable – the answer is 'no,' and frankly, I'd hoped that's what this lunch was about. I was going to ask you the same thing."

Her face fell at that. "I expected as much. The Masters at Gol did say he wouldn't be permitted to respond to the tape you sent him, but a tiny part of me hoped that maybe he'd change his mind after seeing what you had to say."

Kirk squirmed uncomfortably. "I really didn't expect my two cents to have an impact on his decision."

"Don't kid yourself." She searched his face. "I don't believe that for a second. It seems to me that yours was the only opinion that mattered to Spock."

"Unfortunately, we didn't part under the best of terms," he confessed softly, eyes downcast.

"Oh, Jim. Spock valued your friendship more than anything. I can't imagine that he left due to anything you did." The sincerity in her tone left him feeling hollow, empty, responsible.

"Well you'd be wrong." The words escaped his lips before he could stop them. "I told you there was an incident where a crewman died. Essentially, I blamed him for that death in no uncertain terms."

"But you said one life was saved. Did he save the wrong one?" He could see her trying desperately to piece together the sketchy details she knew of that unfortunate event.

"It depends on your perspective, I guess." He decided on complete honesty. He may have cost her any future contact with her only child. In light of that, he owed her the truth at least.

Meeting her gaze squarely he drew an unsteady breath, visibly troubled. "I was the crewman he saved. At first, I was extremely angry. No captain wants a member of his crew to sacrifice their life in order to save his own. And I was convinced the choice was made due to our friendship. But after a few days, I realized that Spock had made the logical choice – the other man was so severely injured, he wouldn't have survived. And before I came to fully understand that I berated Spock for his actions. I drove him to this decision, I'm afraid. It's all my fault." He was absently pushing the food around on his plate, once more unable to meet Amanda's eyes.

He glanced up guiltily, startled, as she laid a hand on his forearm.

"Nonsense!" He was shocked by the vehemence of her reply. "I'm sure that wasn't the first time you ever reprimanded Spock during the years you served together." Her gaze turned introspective. "You know, reprimands and attempts at parental discipline always rolled off Spock like so much water off a duck's back when he was growing up. From an early age, he always marched to the beat of his own drum. He tried to follow the teachings of his father, as a Vulcan son is expected to do, but things didn't always work out the way they were supposed to." She hesitated, striving to accurately explain the unexplainable. "I believe his decision to live his life as a Vulcan was made because he felt it would be best for him, that it would help him to fit in among his peers, not because it's what his father wanted. Just like his decision to join Starfleet."

Her eyes cleared, empathy softening her features. "Oh Jim, please don't blame yourself. All his life, Spock has made choices that totally confounded us. Why should this be any different? I have always liked to think that that's the part of me I have given to him – the ability to think outside the box and not merely follow the rigors of Vulcan philosophy simply because that's what's expected of him." She paused, thoughtfully. "I had always hoped that someday he'd be able to draw out the best attributes from each of his cultures and somehow be able to successfully integrate his dual nature." She stopped suddenly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Sadly, that's no longer an option. I just hope to God he knows what he's doing, and that this will bring him the peace that has so far eluded him."

Kirk felt an answering tightness in his own throat. He still hadn't told her everything, and didn't think he could, or should. In his letter, Spock stated the decision was made because their friendship had become too close, the Vulcan unsure if he could act logically when Jim's life was in danger. So, to Kirk's mind, the blame did indeed rest squarely on his shoulders, regardless of her arguments to the contrary.

"I'm sorry Jim. Suddenly, I've lost my appetite," she confessed, tossing her napkin onto her plate and pushing it to the center of the table, the light, easy mood that had first marked their conversation all but destroyed.

"Me, too," he responded, following suit. "I'll see that you get back to the Embassy now. Waiter," he called, signaling for their server, "Check, please."

oooOOOooo

Late into the night, he sat alone in his darkened apartment, a half-full glass of Saurian brandy dangling from his hand, the empty bottle resting on the floor at his feet. Brooding over the events of the day didn't afford him any answers, or solace.

Before Amanda had gotten into the waiting aircar for her return trip to the Embassy, she'd pressed him into a brief hug. "Please Jim, don't be so hard on yourself. I don't want this decision of Spock's to hurt you as well. We just have to have faith that somehow it will all work out in the end." She'd squeezed his hand, kissed him lightly on the cheek and disappeared into the back seat, pulling the door closed behind her. He'd watched until it was out of sight, feeling his life slipping away from him along with that large, black sedan.

He took a healthy swallow from his drink. _What the hell is wrong with me? _he wondered, glancing toward the large picture window in his living room overlooking the city below. _ Why do I always push everyone who matters to me out of my life? _His thoughts turned to Ruth, Janice, Carol, Edith, Miramanee. As the years went by, he had gotten worse, not better at managing his personal liaisons. So much for the theory that with age comes wisdom. Hell, he'd even caused the deaths of the last two women he'd fallen in love with.

He'd decided after Carol to focus strictly on friendships, but he hadn't fared much better there. Gary had been his best friend all during his academy days, had even risked his own life to save Jim's, and he'd returned the favor by burying his friend alive under a pile of rubble on a barren, godforsaken, out-of-the-way world. It didn't really matter than when Kirk had killed him, he wasn't truly Gary anymore. He should have found some way to bring his friend back from the brink; some way that didn't end in the finality of death.

After Gary, he'd vowed to never let anyone else into his life again, but despite his best efforts to the contrary, McCoy and Spock had had other ideas. As the years progressed, these two came to mean more to him than he'd thought possible, but just as he'd done in the past, he'd managed to drive them away as well. McCoy was no longer speaking to him, and while he hadn't killed Spock outright, the end result would be the same. The man he once knew would cease to exist.

_That's some track record you've got there_, he said to himself sardonically. _It seems personal relationships, of any kind, are not within the realm of possibility for me_. The pain was intense, especially so because he believed it was self-inflicted, a direct result of his inability to foster and maintain a close, intimate rapport with anyone, on any level. This, combined with losing his vessel, his command, essentially his freedom, his individuality, was almost unbearable.

_I always knew I'd die alone. And I can't get any more alone than I am right now…_ He consciously steered his thoughts from this destructive path; that certainly wasn't the answer. He deftly drained his glass, climbing onto unsteady legs and heading for his bedroom. Hopefully, he'd consumed enough alcohol so that he could at least spend several hours of what during the last three months had come to pass for sleep in a dreamless stupor.

McCoy – three months

He awoke, sweating, the air thick, oppressive, birdsong audible in the background. Glancing at the window, he saw the curtains move slightly in the early morning breeze. But the breeze was not cooling; it didn't offer any relief from the sweltering heat and humidity. Tossing back the thin sheet he swung his legs to the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment before getting to his feet and heading for the shower.

_Serves you right,_ he admonished himself silently. _Man has learned to tame the elements; it's your own damned fault for refusing to take advantage of it. _

But five years in space had made him long for the sweet smell of fresh, non-recirculated air, and he was willing to put up with the discomfort to enjoy the soothing sounds and scents of a peaceful, southern morning. Even though he had been back for three months, he still couldn't bring himself to close up the house and turn on the environmental controls. He knew that constant temperature, that even humidity, would conjure up memories he wasn't ready to explore yet. He realized it was just a matter of time, though. The Georgian summer was on its way, and sooner or later he'd have to engage the system, forcing him to come to terms with that chapter of his life and the mental images those consistent conditions were sure to evoke.

Thoughts of Jim and Spock were always accompanied by severe bouts of heavy-hearted pain. They had diminished from the intense sorrow he felt during the first few weeks he'd been back to a dull, steady ache. He never imagined he'd spare a second thought for the time he'd been in space, but he couldn't deny that he missed both men terribly – even Spock. What he wouldn't give to be able to engage in a witty repartee with his favorite verbal sparring partner at the moment. He halted that train of thought immediately. He'd had no say in the matter where Spock was concerned, but leaving Jim and the _Enterprise_ had been his choice and there was no going back now. He'd been adamant with Nogura and later with Jim that he was done with space for good. _I'll be damned if I ever set foot on the deck of a starship again, _he'd told Nogura hotly. He'd spent his whole life up to this point burning his bridges behind him; why should this be any different? He sighed heavily.

Standing under the stream of warm water, face upturned into the powerful spray, he made a conscious decision not to think about it, turning his thoughts instead to the modifications scheduled to begin today to turn several of the downstairs rooms in this oversized, Victorian house into a medical suite where he'd be able to treat patients and perform basic surgical procedures. Nothing fancy, but at least he wouldn't be beholden to hospital administrators. He'd had his fill of ridiculous rules enforced by desk-bound bureaucrats who were living in their own warped version of reality. He was looking forward to being his own boss; setting his own standards and doing things how he saw fit for a change.

Rousing himself from these thoughts he turned off the water. He'd better get a move on if he wanted to be ready when the workmen arrived for the day. He hurried to shave and dress in the short time he had left.

He made it downstairs in time to gulp down a cup of coffee before being interrupted by the doorbell. Draining the dregs from his mug, he set it in the sink before heading off to the foyer.

"I'm coming," he groused testily as the buzzer was rung for a second time, more urgently, insistently than before.

He opened the front door to a crew of five workmen, already perspiring heavily in the morning heat. _That tears it, _he thought glumly. _I'm gonna have to turn on the air conditioning or these guys are gonna lynch me,_ he reflected silently, his eyes roaming over the burly bunch.

"Come on in fellas," he said with much more enthusiasm than he felt. "Before I show you to the workspace, can I offer any of you some coffee?"

"No thanks, Doc, we're all set." This from the large man in front, obviously the crew chief. "If you can just take us to the rooms in question, we'll get started, Dr. McCoy."

"Sure, right this way," he said, leading them down the hall toward the back of the house.

oooOOOooo

He had explained to the foreman exactly what he wanted and turned to leave the room, when a tentative voice stopped him. He turned at the sound to find one of the workmen at his elbow. The man was a head shorter than he; pudgy but not fat, a three-day growth of stubble covering his chin and cheeks.

"Hey Doc, got a minute?" _Oh no, here it comes; he wants free medical advice about his high blood pressure, or his impotence or something._

He flashed a grin, totally devoid of warmth, at the man. "Sure. What can I do for you?"

"You Dr. McCoy? Dr. Leonard McCoy?"

"That I am." He examined the man's face closely. Was he a childhood friend? Someone he'd gone to school with? Try as he might, the man's identity remained elusive.

"Leonard McCoy, as in Chief Medical Officer of the _USS Enterprise?_ As in served under Captain Kirk?" The man's eyes were wide, hopeful.

"Yes," he answered slowly. Just where was this guy headed, anyway?

"Wow! That's incredible! Can I shake your hand?" A beefy appendage was thrust before him. He grasped the proffered hand, still at a loss as to where this conversation was going.

"I've been reading about Kirk for weeks. That was some mighty fine stuff he did in space. His story inspired my son to apply to the Academy. What was it like, being on his ship?"

_Certainly not all it was cracked up to be,_ he desperately wanted to answer, but uncharacteristically, proper decorum came to his rescue. "Jim Kirk is an interesting and complex man. I can definitely say there was never a dull moment," he answered evasively.

"He was the only one of twelve starship captains to come home with most of his crew and his ship intact. Sounds like it was a lucky break for you." He smacked McCoy roughly on the shoulder. "Wonder why they didn't give him another space command? Seems like a total waste of talent if you ask me."

"My sentiments exactly," slipped out before the doctor could bite his tongue. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to start ordering the equipment I'll need to outfit this medical suite." He made a motion toward the door, and was stopped by a strong grip on his upper arm.

"Sure, Doc, sure. I didn't mean no disrespect. It's just that if my boy gets accepted, I'd like for him to serve under someone with as much experience as Kirk." The man shifted nervously, licking his lips. "I'd like for my boy to come home in one piece, you know?"

McCoy couldn't help but feel for the man. He softened his voice and met the anxious gaze squarely. "Don't worry. We learned a lot during that mission, and with Admiral Kirk now in charge of Starfleet Operations, he'll be in an excellent position to see that future commanders gain from his firsthand knowledge of what they can expect. I'm sure your son will be just fine." He forced himself to grin at the concerned father, who answered with a wide smile of his own.

"Thanks, Doc. I'm sure you're right."

"Corson, stop chit-chatting, get your butt over here and get to work." McCoy's new-found admirer flushed at these terse words from his boss.

"Gotta go, Doc, but thanks for the pep talk. I feel better already." After pumping McCoy's hand furiously once again, the worker hurried off, the tools on his belt clanking together loudly in protest.

McCoy watched him go, a feeling of unease settling over him. He'd convinced Corson no problem. Too bad he couldn't convince himself that all would be well. Gripped by a disquieting feeling of apprehension, he turned on his heel and made for the door.

ooOOOoo

As he was seated before the terminal in his study, the cool, dry air coursing from the vent above him ruffling his hair slightly, he found himself unable to concentrate on the images of medical equipment flashing on the viewer before him. He was haunted by the brief conversation he'd had with the workman. If even a layman could see what a huge mistake it was assigning Kirk to a ground position, why hadn't he been able to make the Starfleet brass understand? Shortly after discovering that Kirk had been promoted and assigned as Chief of Starfleet Operations, he'd confronted Nogura in his office, trying desperately to make the man see the absurdity, the utter foolishness of this decision.

Nogura had been unwilling to budge, and McCoy quickly realized the decision hadn't been made in the best interest of Jim Kirk, but of Starfleet. Kirk was a genuine hero in every sense of the word, revered by military personnel and civilians alike, and McCoy rapidly reached the conclusion that it had been done for two very different reasons. Firstly to parade him before the public as concrete evidence of Starfleet's success, and secondly to reign him in, to make sure they had him firmly under control; that they were the puppet masters pulling the strings on Starfleet's most celebrated captain, the consequences to the people who would risk their lives in space in the future, or to Jim Kirk himself, be damned.

When his protests to Nogura and other members of the Admiralty had fallen on deaf ears, he had tried to convince Jim Kirk of the irrationality of his choice. That had been a most painful confrontation, and the last contact he ever expected to have with his former captain. Without warning he found himself transported back to that momentous evening.

He'd gone to Kirk's apartment, only to discover the man sitting alone in the dark, sullen, contemplative, obviously hurting. He'd reluctantly accepted the drink Jim had offered him. He needed a clear head to adequately and convincingly make his point – one which he was sure Jim Kirk didn't want to hear or believe. After a few long minutes of small talk and idle pleasantries, he had broached the subject of Kirk's recent career choice. "I spoke with Nogura today, Jim. He told me accepting the promotion and the ground position was your idea."

Kirk's lips twisted into a grimace. "You did? That must've been some meeting. You two alone in the same room together? That explains the huge cosmic disturbance I saw over HQ earlier."

"C'mon, Jim, I'm being serious here. Don't go trying to change the subject on me." His eyes softened. "Why Jim? Your plan to get another command sounded viable to me. Once you get your dander up you're virtually unstoppable. Why didn't you go for it?"

Kirk rose swiftly to his feet, stopping in front of the fireplace, swirling the liquid in his glass before draining it. "I told you on the ship Bones, I just need a change of venue," he said stiffly, without meeting the doctor's gaze.

"I thought you weren't going to do anything drastic – your words, not mine. If you ask me, this certainly fits the bill." Despite his best efforts to control it, McCoy's voice had started to rise.

"Give it a rest, Bones. It's been a long five years; I'm entitled to a break." Subdued; defeated.

McCoy considered that before answering. "You know, I've never known you to need a break before; in fact, over the years I practically had to threaten you with incompetence to get you to take leave at all. Relaxing isn't in your genes, Jim. You constantly need to be on the move, facing physical and intellectual challenges in order to function like the rest of us average, normal folk."

"That's not what you said when you forced me to take leave on Triani Prime," Kirk countered sharply, irritation creeping into the timbre of his voice.

"Don't give me that shit, Jim – you know what I mean. There's a fine line between allowing yourself time to rest and recuperate and throwing in the towel. Maybe you didn't off yourself, but you might as well have. Being planetbound is going to be the death of you, and I sure as hell am not gonna be able to sit back and watch it happen." Much to his chagrin, his temper was starting to assert itself. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

Kirk chuckled softly in response, finally meeting McCoy's eyes in an effort to dispel that notion. "Don't you think you're being a little overly-dramatic, Doctor?"

"Am I? Am I really?" He moved to stand beside Kirk, resting an empathetic hand on the bent shoulder. His voice was now laced with compassion. "You know Jim, it's not your fault. I was wrong to blame you before. This isn't the first time that blasted Vulcan has gone off half-cocked. Stop beating yourself up over it, okay?"

Kirk moved away from his friend, McCoy's hand dropping limply to his side. His former captain whipped around to face him, anger and sorrow vying for control over his features. "This isn't just about Spock, Bones. I may have brought my ship back in one piece, but there are ninety-four brave souls who didn't return with us. That's my fault, too." He stopped suddenly, turning away and pacing across the room.

Kirk's voice softened, quavering slightly. "I need to come to terms with that. I'm mentally and emotionally drained. And that's a piss poor combination for an effective commander. I'm not ready to have any more deaths on my hands."

"Well I've got news for you, Jim. Sitting here day after day wallowing in self-pity isn't the answer, at least not for you. The best medicine for someone like you is to get back on that horse, look your past squarely in the eye, and move on. Sitting behind a desk far removed from the critical decision-making process is certainly not the way to go about it."

"You make it sound like I'll be out of the loop on everything. I can assure you that's not the case. My experience and input will be used to help create the next wave of starships, to train their personnel and senior officers in such a way as to help prevent many of the mistakes I made. Not to mention I'll be calling the shots regarding the deployment of our current assets."

"You can't tell me you really believe that? Sounds like Nogura's got you thoroughly brainwashed already, and you've only been wearing admiral's braid for a week." McCoy's doubt was readily apparent.

"That's enough, Doctor!" Angry, forceful, the fire and determination of the man he once knew visible for an instant. "I think I know what's best for me."

"That's where you're wrong, Jim – you've never known what's best for you. It always took me and Spock smacking you upside the head to make you see reason, and now that safety net is gone."

"You know, I seem to remember surviving just fine before I met you two." Said through clenched teeth, a long pause ensuing as those words hung heavily in the air between them. "And besides, if that's what you really believe, then that's all the more reason I shouldn't be directly responsible for any more young lives, don't you think?" He had moved to the oversized window and was staring out at the darkened street below. "Why is everyone entitled to a break but me? Spock's off doing what he thinks is best for him, you've resigned your commission to reenter civilian practice – why shouldn't I be allowed to do the same?"

"Because it's not the right choice for you. Good God man, what do I have to say to make you see reason? You're not like Spock, and you certainly aren't anything like me. For the most part, my time in space was ninety percent boredom and ten percent sheer, unadulterated terror. But not for you. You were in your element. For you it was all one big adventure.

"You're a breed apart, Jim. Only one man in a million comes along like you; someone who's so perfectly suited for their chosen profession that they could no more cease doing it than stop breathing." McCoy raked a hand through his hair, stepping to the window as well. Concerned blue eyes tried to search the hazel ones which remained steadfastly averted. Softly. "I guess we're more alike in that respect than I realized. Medicine is everything to me, but I was restricted, constrained by the trappings of duty and regulations. In order for me to thrive, I've got to be able to do things my way. Just as being captain of a starship is everything for you. Don't lose that, Jim. It'll eat at you from the inside out until nothing's left but the shell of the man you once were."

"You've made your point, Doctor, now get the hell out." The eyes snapped to his, now crackling with rage.

McCoy met that fierce gaze, his own eyes hardening to chips of gray flint. He opened his mouth to speak, but the look on Kirk's face silenced him as surely as if he'd just been punched. "Fine! I'm going! I'm done trying to talk some sense into you, and I sure as hell don't want to be around to see you slowly but surely kill yourself."

He turned on his heel, heading for the exit. "Stupid, pig-headed son of a bitch. Excuse me for actually giving a damn, and trying to help. I can assure you it won't happen again," he muttered under his breath. Snatching his coat from a hook on the wall he shrugged it on and made for the door, disappearing into the hallway as the panel swooshed closed with a resounding click behind him.

He felt his throat constrict convulsively as he remembered that bitter conversation. Closing his eyes he passed a hand over his face in an effort to clear his vision and force the hurtful images from his mind. Sadly he realized there was nothing else he could do. Numerous times over the last few months he'd wanted to call Jim and apologize; had even found his hands on the comm unit, keying in Kirk's number, but each time his stiff-necked pride had kept him from completing the impulse. He'd called his former captain the next day and left a message, trying to smooth things over, but Kirk had never returned the call. _I've done all I can, Jim. It's up to you now to realize your mistake and do something about it. I just hope you come to your senses before it's too late…_

Spock – three months

He awoke abruptly, shivering, the cold clinging to him like a heavy, unexpected frost on tender spring flowers. The room was sparse, barren, his Spartan quarters on the _Enterprise _palatial in comparison. Kolinahr meant learning to control the mind to a degree he had never quite experienced before. He had been able to banish the pain inflicted by the neural parasites on Deneva, but this went beyond even the scope of that. Total control – physical, emotional, and everything in between.

And it started with the cold. Vulcans, as a desert people, were accustomed to dealing with high temperatures, even thrived in them, but the monastery at Gol was situated deep in the mountains, the rooms and passageways carved by hand many millennia ago from the solid bedrock of the sacred hills. The temperature here was a constant 13 degrees Celsius, much lower than the normal surface temperature of the planet, and this was the first of many areas of mental discipline the acolytes were required to master.

There was no heat source in the room, save the very small fire burning on the outstretched hands of the meditation statue. It was intended only to provide a ghostly illumination, and to give the acolytes a focal point when running through their daily mental exercises, but in the tiny, confined space it did offer a limited amount of radiant warmth.

The bed consisted of a thin mattress stuffed with natural plant fibers, situated directly on the stone floor. No pillow or blankets were permitted. Discomfort was another area they were expected to manage on a daily basis.

In the three months he had been here, he had already conquered this area of control. So why was he shivering? His mind supplied the answer: The dream had been particularly vivid and disquieting. He was in the cave where DeSalle died, but this time he had obeyed his captain, wresting the young lieutenant from the spike pinning him to the floor and fleeing for the exit. He laid the lifeless officer on the ground outside, one hand over the wound in DeSalle's throat, the other applying pressure to the gaping hole in the man's abdomen left by the razor-sharp shard of rock, his eyes closed, trying desperately to regulate DeSalle's circulatory and respiratory systems.

The sound of the roof collapsing snapped his focus from the task at hand, the paralyzing flash of shock and pain reverberating in his head almost causing him to black out. _Jim! _The link between them had flared brightly for an instant, then suddenly ceased to function as if it had overloaded, burned out. He carefully probed along the fragile thread trying to catch even a glimpse of his captain's consciousness, but it ended in blackness, emptiness. Not the blackness of an unresponsive mind, but the emptiness of complete and utter isolation. Tearing his attention from this inconceivable development, he glanced down at DeSalle. The once vibrant eyes had gone vacant, staring blankly skyward, the chest no longer rising and falling, no pulse palpable beneath the hand he had on their REFLEX candidate's throat. It was as he feared – by following Jim's orders he had condemned both men to death. Unimaginable despair gripped him. It was at that moment that his mind had fought its way up from the depths of this hell conjured up by his subconscious.

Spock found himself breathing heavily, his body wracked by an uncontrollable shaking he knew had nothing to do with the chill in the air. It was bad enough he was having difficulty properly managing his physical reactions, but Vulcans don't dream. Once again, his human half was betraying him, causing him to deal with issues that were non-existent for the other acolytes. He was already beginning to grasp the proper methods for controlling his conscious thoughts and actions; but his subconscious was proving to be a different matter altogether.

Rising to his feet, he walked across the small chamber, sinking to his knees before the meditation statue. He only had a few minutes, but he must regain control before he was required to attend his morning lessons. The distress the dream had caused was twofold: Not only was he forced to relive DeSalle's death, but Jim had perished as well. It was a mindset he had to master immediately. Here especially, he was viewed with mistrust, disdain. No one – not the other acolytes or the masters themselves – believed that he, a half-breed, could attain that which often eluded full-blooded Vulcans. He must succeed at all costs – there was nothing else left for him.

His class had started with twenty individuals; six of those had already dropped out. But things here were done differently than in a traditional learning setting. There were numerous milestones one had to pass in order to attain Kolinahr. As each student conquered a specific level, they moved on to the next, proceeding at their own pace. Of the fourteen novices left in his original group, three had moved on so far, including Spock, who had surpassed the primary level of training several weeks ago, the first in his class to do so. But now it felt as if he were back at square one, less prepared even than when he had initially arrived on the desolate plain at Gol.

Perhaps T'Sai had been right. He recalled the conversation he'd had with the matriarch when she'd summoned him to her office after he'd been at the ancient place of intellectual enlightenment for just over a week.

"_Spock, a tape has arrived for thee from thy former captain."_

_He fought to keep his expression blank, his voice even. "I do not understand Master T'Sai. Once we have crossed the threshold and entered into the temple, no further contact is permitted with the life or those individuals we left behind."_

"_Normally, that is the case, but given thy unique circumstances it was felt by a consensus of the masters that it would be necessary for thee to view this tape and fully explore that aspect of thy past in order to banish it once and for all from thy mind. I saw in the meld we shared upon thy arrival that thee considered this human t'hy'la." Had she not been Vulcan, a master of Kolinahr, Spock would have said the words were spoken with the slightest hint of contempt, as if he'd somehow sullied the wholly Vulcan notion of t'hy'la by naming a mere human as partner to that sacred and mystical bond._

_Panic had gripped him. Would she require him to examine the contents immediately? It was too soon, and Jim Kirk was a most perceptive and persuasive being. It was conceivable that by viewing the tape, Spock would alter his decision to become Kolinahru._

"_Before I departed the _Enterprise _I left a letter for my captain, as I was instructed to do. This chapter of my previous life has already been closed. To reopen it at this time would not be logical." No hint of emotion inflected in his words. How he had managed this, he did not know._

_He had been determined not to flinch under her intense scrutiny. "Agreed. However, the bond of t'hy'la is not easily broken and is contraindicated for one who wishes to be Kolinahru. There is no room for such a bond within the confines of a mind dedicated to pure logic. Are thee prepared to sever this link?"_

"_I am prepared," his lips had answered immediately, but his heart was not so sure. "I have already closed down the link between us. With disuse, it will dissolve of its own volition."_

_Again, her fierce gaze had raked over him. "Very well. It will be for thee to decide when to examine this message thy captain has sent thee, but it must be viewed before thee can be granted the title of Kolinahru, and we must have proof that the link is indeed gone."_

"_Understood, Master T'Sai." He hadn't trusted himself to say anything further._

His vision cleared as he focused on the asenoi before him. _I must not permit myself to think of Jim. That will only lead to madness._ Summoning an inner strength from reserves he wasn't aware he possessed, he began the steps necessary to lead him through the various levels of meditation that would allow him to function as he was now expected to, despite the turmoil raging within him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Kirk – six months

He was seated in his office, a newly-minted lieutenant sitting across his desk from him, giving him a status report on patrols along the Romulan Neutral Zone when his attention was diverted elsewhere. He strove to focus on what the young woman was saying, but became distracted by a commotion in the next room. Looking past the junior officer, he could see Admiral Nogura showing a pretty blonde around the workspace. The insignia on her uniform indicated she was a vice admiral – one grade above him in rank. They were stopping at every workstation, the admiral obviously introducing her as she reached out to shake hands with the various Operations personnel, warm smiles and pleasantries exchanged on both sides. No one had told him they'd be conducting tours for VIPs today. But somehow, this didn't look like a tour. Normally, that involved a number of people, attended to by their even larger entourage of personnel. Instantly his head started to pound. He didn't like the look of this at all.

The lieutenant's voice trailed off as she realized Kirk was no longer listening to what she was saying. Following his eyes she turned, glancing through the glass front of Kirk's office, taking in the scene unfolding before them.

"Who's that, sir? And what's going on?" She shifted her gaze back to Kirk, her questioning look sweeping over his face.

"I don't know, and I have no idea, but I'm sure as hell going to find out." He launched himself out of his seat, stepping quickly around his desk, heading for the door. "Excuse me, lieutenant, I'll be right back," he informed her, the door swinging closed behind him. He moved decisively toward the flurry of activity at the other end of the office.

Seeing him approach, Nogura's face lit up in what to Kirk appeared to be a disingenuous grin. "Jim. There you are. We tried to coordinate a meeting with you first, but it seems you're a very busy man. I hope this is a good time. Allow me to introduce Vice Admiral Lori Ciana," he announced, inclining his head toward his companion.

Stepping around Nogura with a hand extended she flashed him a perfect smile. "Admiral," she said, grasping his hand with a firm grip and giving it a warm shake. "I've heard so much about you. It's going to be an honor working with you."

He felt his own answering smile melt away and he cast a quizzical glance at Nogura, who reddened slightly. "Well, you see Jim," he began awkwardly, before his considerable diplomatic skills kicked in, "Admiral Schmidt retired unexpectedly – turns out his wife is in poor health – so we were scrambling to fill his position," Nogura finished smoothly, now wearing his grin like a shield.

Kirk allowed himself a moment to reflect on that. Admiral Schmidt was his immediate superior, but distanced himself from the job, pretty much giving Kirk free reign to run things how he saw fit. Somehow he got the impression that wouldn't be the case with Admiral Ciana. She seemed one to take a much more hands-on approach.

Nogura was still speaking. "She has experience in this type of position; hers is a lateral move from Division HQ. She can handle a lot of the bureaucratic paperwork and red tape for you, freeing you up for the more critical tasks and essential decision-making processes."

"I see," he replied, his tone much more uncertain than his response. Something just didn't ring true, but at the moment he couldn't put his finger on it. His gaze shifted between Lori and Nogura, noting idly the look of utter shock on the face of the lieutenant commander seated before them at the appropriations desk as the man's eyes traveled from one to the other of his three senior officers. It seemed he was as stunned as Kirk.

"Well, uh, this really isn't the place to discuss it," Nogura hedged, pressing a handkerchief to the beads of sweat that had collected on his brow. "Shall we retire to your office?"

"I think that's a great idea." He beamed at Lori, placing a hand on the small of her back and gently steering her toward his glass-enclosed cubicle.

oooOOOooo

She had been in the Operations Office for over two weeks now, and he had to admit she'd turned out to be a tremendous help. He had learned later during that hour-long meeting in his office that she was also a gifted xeno-psychologist. Her expertise in this area was proving to be invaluable when it came to assigning non-humans to various vessels and staff positions.

Where her predecessor had distanced himself from the minutiae of overseeing the Operations office, Lori was here almost every day, working closely with him and yet did not insist on micromanaging everything, offering ideas and suggestions that proved beneficial to the smooth operation of his personnel and their assigned tasks, but allowing the final decisions to rest with him. At first he'd been suspicious, but with time his concerns had given way to grudging acceptance, gradually changing to approval overall. She seemed to notice the subtle shift in his attitude toward her as well, her initial diffidence and hesitancy turning quickly into self-confidence, her manner becoming easy-going, relaxed, comfortable.

Lately he'd noticed a marked difference in her demeanor as well. Where at first she'd been strictly detached, professional, she now seemed open, receptive, brushing his hand whenever possible, her knee pressing momentarily against his as they sat next to one another at the daily briefing, her hair tickling his cheek as she leaned over his chair, pointing at something on his monitor, her perfume alluring, provocative. Not one to mistake the overt signals she was sending him, he took a moment to contemplate the possibilities.

She was a very attractive woman; slim yet curvaceous, intelligent, self-assured and career oriented – all qualities he found desirable. While in command of the _Enterprise_ he hadn't permitted himself the luxury of getting personally involved with any member of his crew, but this set of circumstances was completely different.

They weren't in a life-or-death situation. He would never have to choose her over another under his command as someone who would need to risk her life on hazardous landing party duty, or as part of a plan to protect his ship and crew. He didn't see anything wrong with starting a relationship with her. Hell, it was just what he needed to snap him out of the melancholy mood that had plagued him for the last six months. Decision made, he didn't delay in acting on the impulse.

"Lori, what are you doing tonight? If you aren't busy, I thought maybe we could grab some dinner after shift. It'd give us a chance to go over those new personnel assignments for the _Revere_." He couldn't stop the crooked grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Why, Jim, that's a lovely idea. I thought you'd never ask. What took you so long?" Her answering smile made him ask himself the very same thing.

oooOOOooo

He gathered her into his arms, kissing her passionately. They had barely made it through the door to his apartment before both were acting on the unmistakable chemistry between them. She returned the kiss fiercely, pawing at his shirt, working to slide her hand underneath it when suddenly, he winced and released her abruptly, turning away from her and taking a few halting steps, leaning heavily on the wall, a fist pressed to his forehead.

She was instantly at his side, a questioning hand on the small of his back. "Jim, what's wrong? Are you in pain?"

"No." And yet he was; not the kind of pain she meant, but an emotional pain, a general sense of unease, of foreboding. He ran an unsteady hand across his face, forcing himself to an upright position, once again trying to put some distance between them, her fingers falling away from him as he stepped around her.

"Then what?" The hurt in her tone was unmistakable.

How on Earth to explain this to her? Should he even explain it to her? He'd only known her for a few weeks – certainly not well enough yet for her to understand the enormity of what was happening. And this wasn't something he and Spock discussed even among themselves. Each had always accepted the link without question, and while they had touched briefly on the subject during their shore leave on Triani Prime, both were content with this bond between them, neither feeling the need to further dissect its existence, merely thankful and appreciative that it had sprung to life of its own volition. Kirk had enjoyed Spock's comforting, reassuring presence in the far recesses of his mind for well over two years before the bond went black after DeSalle's death and Spock's subsequent return to Vulcan. It may have lain dormant since then, torpid from disuse, but Kirk never questioned that it was no longer there.

Over the last few months, it was just as if a heavy door had been closed and bolted shut, one which permitted no light or sound to escape. But the door remained nonetheless; it was merely a matter of finding the right key to open it once again.

But somehow, at this precise moment, it felt different now, as if the door had been removed, a solid, thick, impenetrable wall now taking its place – no chance whatsoever of breaching that barrier. If the link was to ever function again, this obstacle would have to be blasted out of existence by a mental force he simply did not possess.

He drew a ragged breath. "Just a hunch – call it intuition if you will – but I just got the impression that something is terribly wrong with Spock, and that now there's no chance I'll ever see him again."

It didn't hurt per se; it was just as if the all-encompassing blackness where the link had once been was somehow becoming deeper, wider, stronger, as if his mind and Spock's were both the positively charged ends of a magnet, the force causing them to repel farther and farther apart from each other. His legs buckled, and she instantly grabbed him around the waist, steering him toward the couch. He collapsed into the soft cushions, his breath leaving him in a forceful, protracted sigh.

She sat beside him, the concern in her voice now replaced with – jealousy? "Commander Spock – just what was he to you anyway?"

He regarded her uncertainly. "What's that supposed to mean?" Warning bells had started to sound with alarming force.

"You're acting like you've lost the love of your life." Her tone was light, almost as if she was baiting him, but her eyes carried the unasked question hidden within that oh-so-innocent observation.

"Huh?" He was truly shocked. Never before had he heard such a theory about him and Spock. From very early on in their relationship he had always felt a special closeness to the enigmatic Vulcan, as if they were kindred spirits, long lost brothers, but desiring him sexually? In the five years they had served together, he'd only entertained that notion once, briefly, and that had been born out of desperation, of complete helplessness, of the irrational fear that McCoy had somehow miscalculated the amount of time Spock had to live before succumbing to the inexorable pull of his uncompromising biology, unsure that even racing through the galaxy at this breakneck speed they would be able to get Spock to Vulcan in time.

The captain had watched his executive officer carefully during that harrowing four-day trip for signs that Spock was losing the battle with his physiology. Kirk hadn't been about to let the man die simply because he needed to have sex, and most assuredly would have had no qualms about intervening had it come to that. But a constant desire for a physical relationship with his First? He had certainly never thought of Spock in that way before. In light of that, he had been more than happy to bask strictly in the Vulcan's friendship. That was the companionship he ultimately desired from Spock. He could always find someone to warm his bed, but someone who understood him so completely on so many levels was a rarity he wasn't willing to jeopardize, especially given his track record. But in the end, did it really matter? He'd lost Spock despite his best efforts to protect the Vulcan from the sheer force of his will.

"Are you implying that we were lovers?"

"That's exactly what I'm implying," came the instant, almost accusatory response.

He was stunned into silence for several long moments, staring at her with unabashed disbelief. "You're kidding, right? Just trying to push my buttons; to piss me off?" His next thought caused his temples to pulse with anger. "Or is that the general consensus throughout the fleet?"

She regarded him with utter calm, leaning away from him now, arms crossed in front of her defiantly, insolently, deigning not to answer, simply waiting for a response. And that was an answer in and of itself.

"What I had with Spock is a friendship that comes along once in a lifetime, if you're lucky enough to be given such a gift at all. Don't try to twist it into something it wasn't," he ground out slowly, the emotion raw, the anger unchecked. "And now it's gone – probably for good." _And I have no one to blame for that but myself,_ he added silently, guilt he thought he had banished enveloping him once again, suffocating him, the air in the room suddenly dense, stifling, devoid of oxygen.

"Well that's a relief, because if you had been, I don't see how I could possibly measure up to that. Given your reputation, your 'relationship' has become the stuff of legend. I'm not looking to be someone's 'rebound fling' Jim," she informed him with conviction.

He had jumped to his feet, pacing the open area in front of the fireplace with short, explosive steps. "Spock and I were closer than any brothers for almost five years, and suddenly, without warning, that connection is gone. That represents a huge void for me. Forgive me if I'm having a hard time dealing with it," he finished hotly, coming to a stop in front of her. "I don't know – maybe it can be said that he was the love of my life. Even though we weren't interested in having a sexual relationship with one another, ours was an affair of the heart." He paused, another thought springing to mind. "You know, he and McCoy are the closest thing I've had to a family in the last five years. I suppose you think the doctor and I were involved as well?"

Again, no reply on her part, but her expression shifted slightly, as if she regretted bringing it up at all. He searched her face for any sign that she was teasing him, but detected nothing of the sort. "For God's sake, Lori." His tone was now a jumbled mixture of exasperation and anguish. "I may be a bit of a Lothario, but give me a little credit here – I am capable of having meaningful relationships with people that don't revolve around sex, and I certainly don't jump everything that moves."

"So just what do you have in mind for me, then? You jumped me no problem." Her look was now beguiling, enticing, teasing finally.

A grin slowly spread over his face as he gently pulled her up, gathering her into his arms once again, his lips brushing her throat, her cheek, her ear. "Well, that's because your walk is so damn seductive," he whispered, tugging her toward the bedroom, allowing his body to help him forget that which his mind could not…

McCoy – six months

"No please," he pleaded. "You said you only needed one of us – well, here I am – it's already been decided. Leave my friends alone – you've hurt them enough already!" He struggled against the forcefield swirling around his body, but it only served to strengthen it, the pitch increasing, the reddish glow becoming denser, more opaque.

Jim was still stretched out on the plinth, Spock slumped against the edge at his captain's side where he had dropped thanks to McCoy's well-timed hypo. He watched in horror as the two of them disappeared in a blinding flash of light.

"NO!" he screamed as the forcefield disintegrated and he crumpled to his knees. The sound of his voice echoed hollowly in the darkened chamber, the only light over the now-empty platform that had held his friends a few moments ago.

He set off at a run, disappearing into the darkness. He couldn't see a thing, aware only of the blood pounding in his temples, the tightness in his chest as he struggled to draw breath.

He ran blindly for what seemed like ages, calling out his friends' names until he was hoarse. Finally, a pinpoint of light appeared in the distance. He quickened his pace, heading for the spot of illumination, but though his legs worked furiously, it was as if he was running through a thick, viscous liquid, his progress agonizingly slow, his limbs unnaturally heavy, encumbered by an unidentified, invisible force.

At last, having passed through the murky haze, he burst into what he recognized to be the lab they had stumbled upon in what seemed like hours before. He slowed to a walk, terrified of what he would find. As he entered the brightly lit space he noted grimly that the chains suspended from the unseen ceiling, obscured by the darkness above, were conspicuously empty. His heart in his throat, he continued on to where he knew the specimen containers to be – large, life-sized test tubes that had housed the distorted bodies of Linke and Ozaba, along with three empty ones, each coded for one of the _Enterprise_ men. The first two were occupied, as he had expected, but what he saw next caused his blood to run cold. Flashes of blue and gold were visible in the two following receptacles. Spurred into motion, he loped toward them, scanning his surroundings for something – anything – he could use to smash the containers and free his friends…

Jim and Spock were in the tubes bearing their names, their bodies horribly contorted, their faces frozen in the grimaces of pain that had gripped them as they died. He sobbed, falling to his knees before them. "Please, you two are all I've got left in this world," he choked out. "Don't leave me." Profound grief left him numb, broken, gasping for air. Gem. Where was Gem? Surely he could convince her to help them somehow.

He was never sure what made him glance up, whether it was consciously seeking the Vians as targets for his wrath, searching for the Empath who represented the only hope for his friends, or possibly a macabre desire to see his own body in the glass prison reserved for him, following his friends into death, unwilling to be the one left behind. As his eyes settled on the last tube, he felt himself go white, cold sweat breaking out all over his body, his lungs unable to draw breath. In the chamber marked McCoy, it wasn't his body he saw, but that of his father. The man was skeletal, extremely pale, the skin covering his sunken cheeks translucent, wafer-thin, like fine parchment. His dad turned cold, dead, gray eyes on him, reaching out an emaciated hand. McCoy could see the blood pulsing in the dark, spidery veins, they and the skin stretched almost to the breaking point over bone, sinew, cartilage. "Why, Lenny? Why did you kill me? You were skilled enough to have kept me alive for a few more weeks until they announced the cure. You could have saved me. Instead, you abandoned me, took the coward's way out…"

He woke to the sound of his own screams, his cheeks wet with hot tears. "I'm sorry, dad," he wailed. "I just couldn't stand to see you in so much pain. I didn't do it out of cowardice, but out of love. Please forgive me." There was no reply to his plea in the answering gloom.

"Oh God," he groaned, sitting up and putting his head in his hands. He'd been having the nightmare about his father for a number of years now. The setting would change – sometimes in his dad's hospital room, sometimes in his own bed at home, once even, in the main ward of sickbay on the _Enterprise_ – but the questions were always the same. And he never had an adequate answer. That always managed to leave him feeling powerless and woefully inept, as if he were a child again.

The part with Jim and Spock was a new development, however, adding a novel, darkly disturbing dimension to the already terrifying dream. Beginning early on in their mission, he would occasionally have a dream that one or both were so severely injured he couldn't save them despite his best efforts. But he had expected those to subside now. After all, his friends were each safe at present – Kirk on Earth and Spock on Vulcan. It didn't mean they were immune to death, but they surely wouldn't meet their doom at the business end of a Klingon disruptor or at the mercy of some power-crazed, homicidal alien.

The psychiatrist in him began to explore this warped version of reality. He quickly came to understand it didn't have to do with their physical deaths, but their emotional ones. As sure as Sol was destined to rise over Earth for the next billion years, each man was killing himself, not literally but figuratively, whether he realized it or not, destroying that spark that made them each a unique and dynamic individual. Even were they to find each other again, to have that working and personal rapport that had marked their relationship to one another over the past five years, he knew both of his friends would be forever changed by their current circumstances, and while Kirk might be able to find himself again, the man they knew as Spock would be irrevocably lost to them once he completed Kolinahr. Yet Kirk insisted on blaming himself for Spock's radical choice, and if Spock did indeed become Kolinahru that in and of itself might do irreparable psychological damage to his former captain. It was a no-win situation, for each of them.

He knew with certainty Spock was as good as gone to them already. Last week he had broken down and called Amanda, only to learn that she had heard nothing, confirming his worst fears that the Vulcan had not changed his mind about the course his life would now take.

He couldn't stop his own feelings of accountability for what they were currently facing. _Why didn't I stop things before it came to this? I should have seen this coming and done more to prevent it. I warned Jim that he and Spock were becoming too close, and it could mean trouble for both of them, but warning Jim about anything is about as effective as someone trying to push a starship through the vacuum of space. I know how hard it can be to convince him otherwise once he's made up his mind about something. I should have been more forceful, more adamant. Then maybe I could have prevented this. I've condemned my friends to a living hell,_ he lamented silently… 

oooOOOooo

He was awakened by the screech of the comm unit. Briefly disoriented, he realized light was streaming through the open curtains. Had he managed to doze off again? A glance at his bedside chronometer confirmed the time: 09:54.

_Damn it all to hell!_ He'd really overslept. In a fog, he jumped to his feet, crossing the distance to the desk where the comm unit sat, half-expecting it to fill with the face of his irate receptionist, demanding to know where he was and why he was late. He should have started seeing patients almost an hour ago.

He was shocked into speechlessness when his daughter's face appeared before him.

"Hi dad." She stopped, squinting and pushing her face closer to the screen, peering into the machine. "Sorry dad, did I wake you? What time is it there?"

He managed to recover somewhat from his initial sense of bewilderment. "It's almost 10:00, and no, you didn't wake me," he lied. "I'm late for morning hours, and I've gotta run." The dream still weighed heavily on his mind. Emotionally, he was not up to a rancorous confrontation with his only child.

"Really? Since when did you start seeing patients on Sunday? Or are you heading off to see an emergency?"

He drew a forceful breath. _Sunday?_ So that's why Gladys hadn't been beating his door down.

"No…," his voice trailed off.

She was squinting into the monitor again. "Dad, are you okay? You look…upset," she finished tentatively.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping well the last few days."

"Anything I can do to help?" she asked hopefully.

"Nah. Nothing to worry about, honey. I'm sure it'll resolve itself in a few days," he reassured her, a forced smile plastered on his face.

He watched in complete incredulity as his daughter's face fell, the old childhood pain of abandonment, of her response to the awkward, strained distance between them flaring behind her eyes. "Oh. I see. Once again, you don't need me – or my help." Her voice had a slightly sarcastic edge to it, echoing the pain that had marked their relationship while he had been off gallivanting around the galaxy instead of being there for his daughter.

He gazed at the viewer, transfixed, as a number of emotions flitted over her face during that brief instant – anger, shame, sorrow, and most of all, hurt. She stared back at him, her bottom lip trembling, unable to speak.

"Don't be ridiculous. I told you, it's nothing. But something is obviously bothering you. I know I haven't been around a lot for the last twelve years of your life, but that's gonna change, I promise." He paused, his turn to regard the image in the viewer intently. "Joanna, what is it? What's wrong, honey?"

Suddenly she burst into tears. "Oh daddy, I want to come home."

Once again, McCoy was stupefied. It had been years since she called him 'daddy,' and she had never expressed a desire to live with him instead of Jocelyn and her new husband before. _But, _his conscience argued, _it's been seven years since you've had a permanent address. And she would certainly have known that._

"What happened? I thought you were happy on Cerberus, with Nick and your mom?"

"Yeah, well, shows how much _you_ know." She wiped angrily at the tears moistening her cheeks, dropping her gaze from his, clearly wounded and upset.

That hurt. He bit back the angry retort that sprang instantly to mind. His next words could very well set the course for his future relationship with his daughter.

"I suppose I deserved that, but I'm trying to make amends, to be a better, more involved father. But I can't do that if you don't let me in. Please Joanna, I'm trying – help me out here. Work with me." She still refused to meet his gaze. "Look, you're the one who called me," he began, trying to quash his rising ire, "and for once, I'm all ears. I have nowhere to go and nothing to do but listen, and I can't even do that if you won't talk to me. Please, Dandy Lion, tell me what's wrong." His tone was starting to lean toward the desperate.

She glanced up at that, clearly startled to hear him use her childhood nickname. He'd told her once that he called her 'Dandy Lion' because while her smile was as plentiful and heartwarming as those bright yellow flowers, the 'lion' part of her personality was never far from the surface, and when she decided to throw a tantrum, it was always 'a dandy.' Scrubbing at her face one final time she took a deep breath and began, "Well…"

oooOOOooo

Three hours later they finally hung up, having run out of things to say. He was ashamed that he hadn't realized sooner just how tough things had been for her. Nursing school had gone well – she graduated fourth in her class and a full year ahead of her peers – and had opted to return to the colony world where Jocelyn and Nick lived. Nick was a high-powered interstellar trader and had made a good life for his wife and stepdaughter, but Joanna always felt as if she were on the outside looking in. It's not that Nick had treated her badly – he always provided for her; she had attended the best schools on the remote colony world, and his little makeshift family had never wanted for anything – but the two of them never connected on a personal level. To his mind she had always been 'Leonard's daughter,' and as such they never shared that father/daughter bond. His indifference to her, coupled with McCoy's prolonged absence from her life, had caused her to develop a rebellious streak, acting out in a desperate bid for attention – any kind of attention – from her stepfather and mother. In response to that inappropriate behavior they had sent her half a planet away to boarding school at the tender age of twelve, and then to nursing school on the planet Sargasso when she was just seventeen.

It seemed Jocelyn had been just as selfish in this marriage – worrying more about moving in the right social circles and making the proper connections than raising her daughter. Everything she did was carefully orchestrated to help further Nick's career, and there was no way she was going to let a sniveling, unappreciative brat spoil that for her. McCoy had chafed when she had tried to manage his professional choices during their short-lived marriage. He had not been interested in impressing the Georgian elite or winning the most prestigious position. He had simply wanted to help people, something totally incomprehensible to Jocelyn, and just one of many things that had ultimately driven them apart.

He had broken down when he heard all this. "Why Joanna? Why didn't you tell me sooner? I know your mom had custody, but I could've fought her for it if I'd known about this," he stated in a voice quavering with rage and self-recrimination. How could he have missed all the warning signs?

"You had your career, and once you joined 'fleet, there was no way we could be together. Besides, Mom drove you away; I guess I just didn't want to be guilty of that, too. And I worried about you every day you were out there on that stupid five-year mission – anything could have happened to you. I wanted you to be able to concentrate on what you were doing out there. I didn't want you to be distracted by worrying about me. After all, I had everything in the universe I needed…except love."

He had been astounded at her capacity for self-sacrifice. She had only been fifteen when he began his mission with the _Enterprise_ and yet even at that age she had been able to see the danger and put his needs above hers. He had always known she was a special kid, but hadn't realized until this very moment just how special. Maybe there was more of him in her than he'd thought.

"That's true," he had countered, "but you could've stayed with your grandfather, or my aunt, or my cousins and their families. We could've worked something out."

Her face had clouded, deep shame registering there before she continued. "I guess I'm just not as brave as you are. Yeah, it sucked, but it was familiar, comfortable in a weird, twisted sort of way." She had searched his face earnestly. "Do you understand what I mean, dad? It would have meant giving up the known – and while it was far from perfect, it could have been so much worse – for the unknown. At that time, I wasn't strong enough to do it." She had dropped her gaze, clearly embarrassed.

His heart had ached and nearly broken when he heard that candid admission. "I didn't have a choice," he had countered immediately. "I was running from the pain of losing you, of losing your mother, from my failure as a father and husband, and I ran as far away as I possibly could. I don't call that strength, but cowardice," he had confessed softly.

"Well, whatever you want to call it, I don't have the guts to do it. I could strike out on my own, either somewhere on this colony or someplace else altogether, but I'm not ready to make that leap into the unknown yet. Daddy, I want to come home," she had admitted in a small, meek voice which managed to pluck most painfully at his heartstrings.

"If that's what you truly want, then I'd be honored to have you. You know I love you, right? I've always wanted what's best for you. Unfortunately, I always thought that was being with your mom."

"It doesn't matter now, daddy. That's all ancient history. We can start all over, and I promise things will be different between us this time."

"Me, too. I promise I won't walk out on you again."

He had ended the conversation feeling completely drained, yet quietly liberated at the same time. He silently gave thanks to Jim Kirk. He had followed the advice his friend had given him on Triani Prime, sending Joanna a tape expressing his love and pride. It had not been an instant fix, but the two of them had reconnected somewhat in the years that followed, and he was convinced that their conversation of today would never have taken place had he not sent that tape. And it pained him greatly as he realized his last meaningful conversation with Jim Kirk on the _Enterprise_ had been uncannily prophetic. Just as he was now finding himself, returning to his roots and starting fresh with his daughter, his two friends were just as surely losing themselves, perhaps for good.

He shook his head, forcing those thoughts from his mind. He had promised Joanna she could come home. She'd be here in a week and he had a lot to do to get ready for her arrival. He headed resolutely for the shower.

oooOOOooo

He was straining to hear the announcement over the din in the crowded spaceport.

"Shuttle from Starbase Two arriving at gate six in three minutes."

_Shit_! Starbase Two was where she caught her connecting flight to earth, and he was at gate nineteen. Hopefully he could sprint the distance before the passengers started disembarking. This was his chance to start with a clean slate with his daughter. It simply wouldn't do not to be there to greet her when she arrived.

Atlanta International Airport, the US's busiest hub, had been converted to a spaceport over 100 years ago. And it still saw a preponderance of earthbound interstellar flights headed for the United States. Most shuttles and space flights carrying passengers bound for the eastern seaboard landed here, travelers then able to catch the trans-continental tube, commercial flitters, or for those who could afford it, journey via transporter to their final destinations.

He arrived just as the doors opened. He craned his neck to see over the heads of the others waiting to retrieve their loved ones. He became increasingly agitated as person after person passed through the gate, with no sign of Joanna.

Had she changed her mind? She had talked about wanting to come home, but after all, it would be stepping into the unknown. They hadn't seen each other face to face in almost eight years.

Finally, he saw her emerge, hesitant, unsure, and his vision clouded suddenly. This wasn't the small child he had left behind all those years ago. She was now a young woman.

"Joanna?" he called tentatively, and she snapped her gaze to his. She started toward him but he couldn't contain himself. He ran to her, gathering her at last in his arms.

She clung to him fiercely, burying her head in his shoulder, her body wracked with sobs. He disentangled himself from her, brushing her cheek with his hand. "You've gotten so tall; and beautiful." He was grinning so wide it hurt, drinking in the sight of her.

She laughed through the tears. "Yeah well, that's what we kids do – we grow up, like it or not." Now it was her turn to examine him. "Oh dad, you've gotten so…skinny! Didn't they feed you on that ship?"

"If you can call fake, processed, synthesized nourishment food." He held her at arm's length, content to just look at her. It was then he noticed the earrings and necklace.

"You're wearing the Kaliani," he began. "Do you like them…?" He trailed off, painfully aware of what the rare Trianian gems meant.

She sensed his unease, and pressed him into a brief hug once again. "Yeah, I love them – they're absolutely gorgeous. Purple _is_ my favorite color you know," she informed him, her eyes twinkling. "And besides, I'm trying to make a statement here, in case you missed the point. I know they are meant as an apology, and I'm wearing them today to make it perfectly clear that the apology has been accepted, the reason for that apology totally forgiven. I want us to start over, dad. We're family – and it's about time we started acting like it."

"Just tell me one thing – how'd you get to be so damned smart?" Not surprisingly, he felt his heart swell with pride.

Her gentle laugh was like a soothing balm to rough, dry skin. "Like my sometimes volatile temper, it runs in the family, I guess."

"Well, c'mon," he said, swiping at his own cheek. "We can't stand here blubbering like idiots all day. Let's go get the rest of your things and go home." He swung the bag she had dropped to his shoulder.

Her sincere smile warmed his heart. "I thought you'd never ask," she replied, looping her arm through his as they set off for the exit.

Spock – six months

It was dark, the chill night wind sighing softly as it coursed along the twisting, narrow, path, small eddies of red dust following in its wake. A barren, empty plain lay twenty meters below, bridging the wide gap between the two sections of sheer, rocky cliffs marred in places by faults in the bedrock, visible to either side. Both were covered with sparse, low vegetation, serving as a refuge for the odd assortment of small nocturnal animals and insects who called this area of the desert home, their discordant songs carried aloft on the gentle breeze.

He was currently on a tiny ledge overlooking the uneven terrain, preparing for what was sure to be a rather intense session of personal meditation and reflection, huddled about the small campfire he had built to ward off the chill of the desert night air. His back pressed to the stone wall behind him, he allowed his gaze to travel out over the bleak landscape below. He had already endured fourteen days of the month-long ordeal known as Pon T'Khalivar, The Time of Self-Examination, which represented the first of many physical and mental challenges the acolytes were required to undergo as part of their training on the path to pure logic.

For this particular task, the candidates were expected to fast for thirty days while surviving weaponless on Vulcan's unforgiving desert. This exercise was designed to afford them the time and privacy necessary to examine in great detail those qualities they considered strengths and weaknesses, and why. Additionally, they were to carefully evaluate their previous personal relationships in order to decide what role, if any, those persons would play in their futures. Upon their return to Gol, they were obligated to meld with one of the masters to show what they had learned and accomplished during their time on Vulcan's desolate sands.

Having examined it from every angle possible, Spock had reached the conclusion that for him to complete the goal he had set for himself, he would need to remove Jim totally from his life. On this night, he intended to initiate the process of severing all ties to his former captain.

_Forgive me Jim, but it must begin somewhere. I have been contemplating the proper method to use for the last two days, and the most logical place to start is with the link. Once it is gone, it will be easier for each of us to forget the other. _

_The best way would be to eliminate the link altogether, pulling it out by the roots, and yet I find myself unable to do so. Without advance warning and complete mental preparation, it would be excruciating for you, if only for a short time. Moreover, your force of will is quite strong, and I have no doubt you would fight tenaciously to retain it, which could result in permanent psychological damage. That is a consequence I am unwilling to risk._

_At this time, you would certainly not understand why this is necessary, but would interpret the sudden termination of the link as a rejection of you on my part. You did not ask for this, and you should not be made to suffer for my mistakes. I am weak, inherently flawed, and despite knowing that this swift and decisive act would once and for all put an end to our friendship, I do not wish to cause you pain. I owe you that much at least._

_I was being truthful when I informed T'Sai that the link would cease to function on its own, with time and disuse, but you will feel its presence until the final moment; be aware of it closing off bit by bit until it no longer exists. It is my sincere hope that you will be distracted enough by your new life, your new command, that you will barely notice its passing._

Spock took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. _And so it begins,_ he thought, as he set in motion the steps necessary to start sealing off the link…and their fate.

As he began the procedure, that, combined with two weeks of fasting and the emotional distress caused by this action threw his mind into a heightened state of agitation. As he came to understand the significance of what he was doing, his anguish became almost unbearable, causing a hallucination he was powerless to stop. To his conflicted brain, it almost seemed as if a spontaneous conversation sprang up between the two halves of his psyche, each arguing their case for dominance over the other.

'_Be sure this is truly what you want. Once we start down this path and finally embrace Kolinahr, there will be no turning back.'_

'You know as well as I that this is the only option open to us.'

'_Really? There were other choices we could have considered, namely the captaincy of the _Gagarin_ or the position at the Vulcan Science Academy. Either would have pleased our father, and guaranteed our acceptance among his people.'_

'You are the one who has always held us back, kept us from achieving the goals set for us by our father.'

'_You don't actually believe that. My presence has served to help us connect with those around us.'_

'That may be true to an extent when dealing with the humans in our life, but it was your influence that kept us…at a distance…from our father's people, always kept us on the fringes, on the outside looking in, constantly striving for but never fully attaining unconditional acceptance.'

'_Was it really my presence, or their fear of the unknown, of that which is different, alien to them, despite the teachings of IDIC, that kept us apart from them?'_

'Our father's people function on logic. You are inherently illogical, despite my best efforts to control that aspect of our personality.'

'_And so for that I must die, be forced out of existence, my presence in our life totally eradicated?'_

'In light of recent developments, it would seem to be the only way for us to function.'

'_You only kill what you fear.' _

'I do not fear you. Fear is an emotion that, as a Vulcan, I am able to master through logic.'

'_Then why dismiss me? Why deny that I am, in fact, part of us, or that I deserve expression? Why must I always remain in the shadows, kept under tight control? Jim Kirk saw my worth, our mother saw my worth.'_

'Jim Kirk is the reason we are here; had you not allowed yourself to become hopelessly entangled with him emotionally, or had you been able to exercise even a modicum of restraint where the human was concerned, this extreme measure would not be necessary.'

'_T'hy'la is a wholly Vulcan state of mind; you also had to be receptive to it for the bond to have formed. And it's an emotional bond between friends – let us be clear on this. You may have been able to deceive those humans we served with, but you can't deceive me, I know you as well as I know myself. You aren't as devoid of emotion as you claim to be.' _

'But had I been granted greater control over the situation, I could have managed the link as it was intended to function, without the trappings of strong feelings. It was your illogical influence that proved to be its downfall. You are correct when you state t'hy'la is a purely Vulcan concept. And as such, this bond can be handled logically, without emotional overtones. Jim Kirk had no other option open to him; he is by nature an emotional being. For us, the choice was to embrace this link from the standpoint of a Vulcan or a human. I believe we are both aware of what transpired.'

His Vulcan half paused to let the weight of his words sink in. 'You are undeniably the reason we became too dependent on the human emotionally. It has always been thus. We have tried to integrate our two selves in the past, but it has never resulted in a true fusion of our personalities. We constantly struggle against one another. We realized this on Triani Prime, even though at the time we did not fully understand its significance. It was my intention to be solely Vulcan, you felt the need for expression. Unfortunately, these two mental outlooks are mutually exclusive. We must either be one or the other, and we have seen the effects of allowing our passions to rule us. It cost lieutenant DeSalle his life, and we were fortunate that the ship and crew of the _Enterprise_ were not forfeit in one of our misguided attempts to preserve Jim Kirk's life.'

'_It could be argued that lieutenant DeSalle would have died, no matter what choice we made, and that the ultimate decision we made was, in fact, logical. Even when we stayed in Tholian space in order to rescue Jim, we knew that he still lived. The link would have told us instantly if he had perished. We had inside information to which McCoy was not privy when he urged us to leave.'_

'The fact that we knew he still lived does not negate the fact that we unnecessarily put over 400 lives at risk in an effort to save one – the one that meant the most to us; to _you._ Our father would not have agreed with or approved of that choice.'

'_For once we see things eye to eye. Even I can't justify or deny the times the lives of the crew were put in danger unnecessarily. Leonard McCoy is one of the most compassionate individuals we have ever known, and yet even he questioned our decisions at those times. However, I can't find it within myself to bear the entire brunt of the blame for those decisions. We reached those conclusions together; it's the way we've always lived our life.' _

His Vulcan half paused, carefully pondering that point before answering. 'You are correct, but it can be said that it was your influence that led to these questionable choices.'

'_But were they so wrong? Even when we put the _Enterprise _and her crew in jeopardy, we managed to arrive at the proper solution, to have the best possible outcome. Jim Kirk would call that "following our intuition."'_

'And our father would call that an unacceptable risk, endangering the lives of individuals with which we had no right to gamble.'

It was his human half's turn to pause, to carefully consider that statement. _'It would seem that no matter what I say you'll remain stubbornly unconvinced. Unfortunately, it is an undeniable fact that we can't coexist peacefully. In light of that, I will go, but be warned. I don't believe this is the right decision for us. I'm sure we'll come to regret it.'_

'That is where you are wrong. This decision will guarantee our continued survival, and grant us the peace of mind that we will no longer jeopardize others due to our irrational and illogical impulses where Jim Kirk is concerned.'

'_But at what cost? Can we truly function as only half a being? You seem to think so, but I have my doubts. There were other options open to us, but sadly they are no more. This was the decision at which we arrived, in favor of the other alternatives available for our consideration.'_

'Let us speak plainly. You would not have allowed those other options, that separation from Kirk. He had already asked us to accompany him during his next command, and you agreed wholeheartedly, without fully examining all the possibilities before us. It was a decision that would have ended in disaster. We made this choice – _I_ made this choice – precisely because it was the only one that guaranteed the safety of those around us. Surely you can see this, and understand why it is necessary?'

'_I understand why _you_ think it's necessary to destroy me, and unfortunately I don't have the strength or the will to fight you anymore. But don't expect me to believe that I'm the only one who was emotionally attached to Jim. We both know that is untrue. However, that does not change the fact that we are here. The choice has already been made. There is no turning back now. You're on your own. You, and our father's people, have won.'_

His personal reflection was interrupted by a guttural cry that split the night. He was instantly on his feet, his Starfleet training taking over in spite of his surroundings, the intimate, personal dialogue brought on by his intense meditation and the painful feelings it evoked all but forgotten.

He set off at a steady sprint, following the sounds as they pierced the preternatural stillness, headed down the steep slope toward the flat ground below. Rounding a large bluff, he saw the le-matya fifty meters in the distance, its attention focused on a small cleft in a sheer rock face rising up from the floor of the desert. Even without the illumination a lunar body would have provided, his eyes were able to detect movement in the tiny gap, see the flash of clothing as the le-matya pawed at the surrounding structure in an effort to flush its quarry from the protection afforded by the hillside.

As Spock expected, there were no cries of despair, of fear, emanating from the confined space, but the emotions carried aloft on the chill night wind were a disorderly mix of frustration and single-minded determination emanating from the beast, and defeat and resignation from its prey. As novices striving to attain Kolinahr they were forbidden to use violence in any form, regardless of the circumstances in which they found themselves.

Without conscious thought, Spock set off at a run across the open plain. Once he had covered about thirty meters, he slowed his pace, traveling another ten meters before he stopped, raising his arms and closing his eyes, focusing all his mental energy on the scene unfolding before him. After a few moments, the beast raised its head, nostrils flaring, as if responding to an outside stimulus. Sampling the cool air with its pointed, orange tongue, it seemed to catch a more pleasing scent, disappearing into the night.

The sound of movement from the fissure brought Spock out of his trance. Someone was cautiously emerging from the makeshift shelter.

"Who is there?" the voice demanded. "Identify yourself."

"I am called Spock. Are you injured?" He began making his way over to the man, who was running his hands over the front of his robes. _Stilek, an acolyte like myself, _his mind supplied.

Stilek had been a member of the second group of students Spock had joined, and while none of them had been overtly friendly, engaging him in conversation only when necessary, Stilek had remained strangely aloof. Although Spock had been with this assemblage of his peers for over three months now, some aspirants moving on and others joining them from Spock's initial class, he and Stilek had never once spoken among themselves.

As Spock reached the other, he could see the slashes in the fabric. Stilek was now fumbling with the robes, his hands none-too-steady as he fought to open them, exposing his chest. The man breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of pristine, unmarred skin, knowing that the slightest scratch from the le-matya's poison claws would have been a death sentence.

Spock let out the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding as wide, startled eyes turned to his. They remained so for just an instant, the other's control taking over as if someone had flipped a switch. "I appear to be undamaged," came the calm, composed response. "But I am at something of a loss to understand why the creature halted its attack and retreated."

"I convinced it there was easier prey to be had elsewhere," Spock explained hesitantly.

"How? I did not see you touch the beast," Stilek commented warily, a touch of disbelief slipping past the tight control.

"It is not safe to remain here," Spock countered, ignoring the question. "Once the le-matya discovers there is no other quarry in the vicinity it is sure to return. We should retreat with all due haste." And with that, Spock turned, making for the protection afforded by the low hills, heading back toward the little camp he had vacated so abruptly. He was both relieved and slightly unsettled to hear footsteps behind him.

After a few minutes of silently winding their way single file along the narrow path, Stilek had drawn closer, falling into step beside him. "I am curious, Spock. How were you able to convince the le-matya to withdraw without physical contact?"

"I projected my thoughts; apparently it was enough to persuade the creature to seek its next meal in another location."

He could feel Stilek's eyes upon him, skepticism emanating from the man. "Only fifteen point two percent of our people are graced with the gift of thought projection powerful enough to influence the actions of another. How is it that you…" he paused, flushing slightly, before beginning again. "Where did you acquire such a talent? Many have tried, but it remains an impossible skill to teach or learn. One must be born with the ability."

"Then it would seem that I was fortunate to receive the proper DNA," Spock replied drolly, eyes focused on the trail before them.

"You misunderstand my question," Stilek countered, trying to properly qualify his previous statement. "Those who possess the gift must train to refine and hone the skill. As a rule, this ability does not appear before one's twenty-fifth year. Correct me if I am mistaken, but were you not already in Starfleet at that time? Surely this was not the first time it manifested?"

Spock considered carefully before answering. "I had occasion to use it in several instances in my capacity as a Starfleet officer. In fact, the lives of more than a few crewmembers depended on my ability to succeed. Necessity required that I gain proficiency in its proper usage quickly," he supplied, somewhat reluctantly.

Stilek raised an eyebrow at him. "In other words, you violated the sanctity of another's mind without permission?" Mind rape carried more stigma among Vulcans that physical rape did among humans.

"Negative." Spock allowed a hint of the distaste and annoyance he felt to carry over into his tone. "In each instance I adhered strictly to the rules that govern our people with regard to our telepathic abilities. It was not a true violation per se. No damage was done to the other party, nor was any information gleaned without their consent. I used it twice to persuade other humanoids that we had escaped from the cell where we were being confined, but in most cases it was used to establish communications with life forms so dissimilar from our own that this proved the only avenue available to initiate a dialogue."

Stilek's innate sense of curiosity was piqued. "Indeed. I should be interested to learn more of these alien life forms." Gone was the argumentative, skeptical air that had marked his tone previously, replaced with a simple desire for knowledge.

Again Spock hesitated, slightly uncomfortable discussing his unique and rare abilities with this man. For him, trust had been an issue throughout his life. The only being he trusted implicitly was one James T. Kirk. The decision to answer was made for him as they arrived at Spock's camp. Bending to throw sand on his small fire, he indicated the need to Stilek for them to keep moving.

"Once the le-matya becomes aware that other prey is not available, it will seek to reacquire you. In order to avoid detection, it would be wise for us to continue on."

"Flawlessly logical." Admiration gleamed in the deepset eyes for an instant. "But we should each go our separate way. We are expected to survive alone, without assistance. Surely you must understand that it was a breach of the ritual of Pon T'Khalivar to have come to my aid at all." Stilek's distrusting, suspicious demeanor had returned.

"Be that as it may, there are also certain rules of Vulcan ethics which dictate that all life is sacred and we should do all within our power to preserve it." His last image of DeSalle floated before his eyes, but he forcibly dismissed it.

"I cannot believe that either of us will be held accountable for this violation, but in any case, the fault lies squarely with me and I am prepared to suffer any consequences that may arise from it." He paused, continuing more softly. "Compassion for the life of another is one of the cornerstones of Surak's teachings and I shall defend my actions if need be." He cocked an eyebrow at Stilek, watching as disbelief flitted over the man's face briefly, before the Vulcan mask settled snugly over his features.

"You are wise, Spock, if foolhardy as well. It would seem your time among humans has also had an impact on how you conduct yourself. We shall see if your gamble, your rewriting of the rules, pays off in the end, but I shall take my leave of you now. Kaiidth shall determine our fate this night. Live long and prosper." Stilek raised his hand, flashing the ritual salute before turning his back on Spock and disappearing into the darkness.

oooOOOooo

On the thirtieth day, the acolytes began straggling back in twos and threes to wait patiently outside the entrance to the monastery. The huge structure was fashioned from the rock face itself, much like the Treasury at Petra on Earth, the casual observer often unable to distinguish where the intricately carved monument ended and the striated, reddish-brown stone of the windswept cliff, polished to a high luster by eons of swirling sand, began.

A six-meter tall, half-moon shaped wall surrounded the façade, marked by two guard towers located to either side of a huge, lattice-work metal gate at its center, and two more along both sections of curved wall halfway between the gate and the edge of the cliff. Millennia ago, watchers had been posted in these turrets to warn the inhabitants of approaching danger from rogue, aggressive tribes, but since the tenets of Surak had brought peace to the planet 5,000 years ago, the guards constantly on duty in these bastions of defense were largely ceremonial, a testament to ancient times and a willingness to preserve the customs and traditions of the past.

All but two of those who had faced the challenge of Pon T'Khalivar reappeared that morning to await admittance to the temple. Informed of the novices' arrival by those stationed atop the walls, T'Sai and several of the lesser masters had come out to meet them. The group paused in silent remembrance after being told the fate of those who would not be returning: "All here felt their katras depart into the great beyond. We know not the cause of their deaths, but grieve that all that they were, all that they knew, is now lost to the Vulcan people." Once the ritual words had been spoken, the weary travelers were ushered inside where they were permitted to bathe before engaging in the required melds with the masters.

During the course of the mind link he had shared with T'Sai, he learned that she had approved of his decision to rescue Stilek, and praised him for doing so without causing harm to the large, albeit deadly reptile. She also expressed support for his efforts to begin the dissolution of his mental connection to Jim Kirk. She had understood, even agreed with, his reasoning for not destroying the link outright.

"_The human mind is more fragile than ours, Spock, but also blessed with a forgetfulness to help them survive difficult, emotional altercations. How does the human saying go? 'Out of sight, out of mind?' There is no doubt that this path will cause thy former t'hy'la the least amount of distress. A commendable choice on thy part to put his needs above thy own."_

She also indicated that she was most satisfied with the advances in deportment and mental discipline he had been making.

"_Thee have more to overcome than most, my child, and thee are performing at a level much higher than we thought possible for thee. Indeed, thee have already surpassed a number of thy peers with regard to control. An admirable indication of thy talent; we are pleased with thy progress. Thee bring honor to thy father's house, and the House of Surak. Thee are proving thyself to be a worthy heir to thy prestigious lineage."_

He had been most careful during that exchange to let no hint of pride in his accomplishments show either in his mind or on his face. Perhaps this was a test as well, to see if he could indeed suppress these counterproductive thoughts, these vain emotions. While less destructive than the more base emotions of hate or jealousy, pride and feelings of superiority presented their own unique set of pitfalls.

These were the topics of his meditation later that day as he attempted to cleanse his mind as completely as thirty days in the desert without food had cleansed his body.

After the acolytes had been back for over ten hours, they were finally permitted to eat. It didn't matter that his class hadn't fed their physical bodies for over four weeks. At Gol, the monks only partook of one meal a day, and even though the students had returned this morning, they were granted no special privileges. After melding with the masters, they were expected to attend their lessons and then engage in several hours of personal meditation before breaking their fast at the evening meal.

The meal was typically consumed in silence, and afterwards the residents scattered to complete their assigned chores. This evening Spock found himself on cleanup duty in the dining hall, assisted by none other than Stilek. The two had not spoken since their encounter in the desert. They worked quietly for a time, washing and drying the dishes, stacking the chairs on top of the tables and then scrubbing the floor on their hands and knees.

It was Stilek who first broke the stillness. "I do not know how you managed it Spock, but Master T'Sai approved of your…indiscretion…in the desert." Said to the floor as he steadfastly applied himself to the task at hand, not meeting Spock's eyes.

Spock deigned not to answer.

"In addition," Stilek continued, "I have been remiss in my manners." The brush continued to swish back and forth across the weathered stone.

"In what way?" Spock asked in genuine confusion, glancing up at Stilek and halting his own movements.

"I condemned you for your actions, and the possible ramifications which they could bring to each of us, rather than expressing my gratitude for offering me assistance that ultimately preserved my life. I viewed your 'human' influence as a weakness, rather than something that contributed to your strength of character. Please accept my humble apology." Finally meeting Spock's eyes.

Unsure of how to respond to this unexpected turn of events, Spock merely nodded in acknowledgment.

Stilek continued, shifting the course of the conversation in a totally different direction. "I was quite struck by our discussion following my attack, and find that I wish to learn more about the creatures you encountered during your time in Starfleet, and how you were able to use your special abilities to establish contact with these beings." Stilek had stopped his work as well, his hands now resting on his thighs, legs folded beneath him, regarding Spock earnestly.

Spock returned his gaze with a sense of foreboding. Stilek had never gone out of his way to engage him before, but he could detect nothing in his fellow laborer's demeanor to indicate dishonesty, or an ulterior motive. The predominant emotion he sensed was that of curiosity.

He carefully considered his options. There were many on his home planet who judged Starfleet solely by its use of military force, only seeing its starships as finely-tuned weapons of war, used carelessly and much too frequently. Here was a chance for enlightenment; to show that they could also be instruments of peace, used to open up new avenues of communication with and to gain a deeper understanding of alien cultures.

Decision made, Spock began speaking quietly. "On Janus VI we encountered a silicon-based life form called a Horta. Unwittingly, the pergium miners on that planet where destroying her eggs and she responded as any mother who was trying to protect her offspring would – by killing those who were harming her children. At one point, she had cornered my captain and in an effort to explain to her that we meant her no harm and only wished to understand her motives I attempted this form of communication.

"She emitted a powerful corrosive, capable of dissolving solid rock and she had used this method to dispatch several of the miners and a member of our crew, so it was of paramount importance that she came to know that we did not pose a threat, and the destruction of her eggs was inadvertent, due to a lack of understanding on our part."

"Fascinating. It would appear that there is more to service in Starfleet than we were led to believe. You said there were other instances similar to this one?" Stilek asked, showing a genuine interest in the events being recounted to him.

"There was an incident where myself and the ship's chief medical officer found ourselves stranded on Beta Arcida IV, at the mercy of the planet's primary indigenous species: a large, arthropod life form similar to the Terran order Isoptera, which had captured the doctor and myself, intending to use us as sustenance for their queen. I was able to convince the drone guarding us to abandon his post, affording Doctor McCoy and I the chance to escape."

"It would seem I misjudged you when I intimated that you had used this gift in an improper manner. I ask forgiveness." Spoken with a slight degree of contrition.

"None is needed, for no offense was taken," Spock informed him matter-of-factly, but his words seemed to have little effect on the man. Stilek was once again searching Spock's face intently.

"Spock, I must make a confession to you. I have meditated on this for many nights, and believe you have the right to know." Stilek paused, licking his lips before continuing. "It had been said among our people that you joined an all-human ship in favor of the _Intrepid_ because you would be unable to attain the level of control necessary to work exclusively among Vulcans. It seems even we, the most logical race in the galaxy, are not above falling victim to idle gossip." Hastily, Stilek averted his eyes.

"I see," Spock responded, blocking all trace of emotion from his tone.

"It was even said," Stilek continued hesitantly, "that you found companionship with your human captain, and that is why you freed T'Pring after the Koon-ut-kal-if-fee. Your doctor tricked T'Pau into believing the human was dead, allowing you to have him over a Vulcan wife. This is the reason given for your continued survival. For no true Vulcan male, with the exception of those who have mastered Kolinahr, has ever survived Pon Farr without consummation."

Spock's thoughts traveled back to that chaotic time, some events still not completely clear to him to this day. Even in the fever-induced haze which had enveloped him he had sensed Kirk's panic, his feelings of helplessness, and Spock had been acutely aware that Jim would have done anything to save him. Just as surely, Spock had vowed silently to himself that he would not allow that to happen, and yet he had been paralyzed by the very real fear that things may reach a point when he no longer had control over his actions. He valued Kirk's friendship above anything else in the universe, and had it come to that, that singular act would have taken their relationship down a path neither had a real desire to follow. Had that happened, things would have been irrevocably changed between them and not for the better to Spock's mind. That was an end result Spock had been unwilling to risk, Vulcan biology be damned.

In the days and weeks following his failed marriage, he and the captain had studiously avoided the subject, on any level, despite knowing the thought had crossed both their minds. It was as if they knew without discussing it that it would have been catastrophic, each glad to feign ignorance now that the immediate danger and the irrational impulse had passed. The temptation for each of them had died as rapidly as Spock's yearning for T'Pring had disappeared.

Besides, he knew Jim desired the companionship of females, and as a Vulcan, the physical aspects of a relationship, even within the confines of the marriage bond, except during Pon Farr, were always secondary to the mental ones. Vulcans were telepaths; they were hard-wired to crave psychological closeness even over physical closeness. This had been especially true in the days before Surak, when his ancestors had often been ruled by their passions. Mental control over their enemies, as well as their allies, had repeatedly proved more effective than physical control. It was this aspect of the Vulcan psyche that had allowed his people to cast out their emotions all those millennia ago, in favor of logic. This was not to say that present-day Vulcans didn't enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, but it was the psychological attachment of the bond they sought above all else, and once his barren, empty link to T'Pring had been severed, it opened his mind to the more ancient and satisfying bond of t'hy'la which had had its rudimentary, tentative beginnings in the weeks following that traumatic course of events. His emotional link to his captain had been more than enough, and what he truly desired.

He glanced at Stilek who had dropped his gaze, his cheeks flushed a vivid green.

"As you, and everyone else on this planet it seems, are so fond of pointing out, I am not a pure Vulcan. Would it not therefore be logical to assume that I would not respond to the loss of my mate in the same way as a full-blooded Vulcan?" His voice was even, steady, emotionless.

His companion refused to respond, clenching and unclenching the hands clasped tightly in his lap, unwilling to comment further. Spock tried a different approach. "Stilek, why would you tell me this?" Quite shocked that his voice did not betray his inner turmoil.

"Because it is easy to believe such things when the subject is only a phantom, an apparition, an indiscriminate vision created in the minds of petty, shallow individuals." He raised his eyes to meet Spock's squarely. "But I have met the legend, and found the stories to be unwarranted, the accusations unfounded. Had your reputation not preceded you, I would have regarded you as the epitome of what Vulcans strive to be, a most worthy representative of the House of Surak. Would that all of our people could make the same claim."

Spock was completely taken aback by that statement. No one save his mother or Jim Kirk had ever expressed such support for him. He felt his face grow warm.

Stilek continued. "It was my opinion that you had the right to know that there are those among our people who view you as an…aberration. I have reached the conclusion that this characterization is baseless, and if more of us were to subscribe to the teachings of IDIC, we would be able to celebrate your differences as well as those qualities and personality traits we associate with our own kind. You have been given a great gift – the ability to walk with understanding in both worlds. Do not lose that, and do not let others take that from you." Stilek's gaze was intense, penetrating, and Spock found himself unable to meet those eyes.

"Others have judged you unfairly. And I am ashamed that at one time I also chose to do so." Dropping his eyes finally and retrieving his scrub brush, Stilek bent over the floor, once more putting his back into polishing the stone, worn smooth by millennia of sandaled feet.

Spock grabbed his as well, and the two worked once again in silence, each relieved that the other did not feel the need to say anything more.

Over the course of the next few months, they found themselves assigned to work together more and more often, gradually building trust between them. Soon they were confiding in one another, seeking and providing advice, encouragement and sound counsel. Spock suspected that T'Sai had had a hand in this decision. While true friendship was frowned upon for those wishing to be Kolinahru, there was a distinct advantage to finding a kindred spirit from whom to draw strength and guidance during this grueling and difficult ordeal. To Spock's mind, T'Sai believed they would be able to help one another.

And it seemed she was right.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Kirk – one year

Someone was shaking him. He lashed out, grasping the offending wrist in a vice-like grip.

"Jim! Please stop! You're hurting me!"

"Lori?" Her face swam inches before his in the dim, gray pre-dawn light.

"Yes, Jim, it's me. Please let go – you're hurting my arm."

He released his grip instantly, pushing himself to a seated position. "I'm sorry, I don't know why—"

"You were having a nightmare, calling Spock's name repeatedly, apologizing for something over and over. I was just trying to wake you." Soft, soothing, her hand brushing his shoulder, now caressing his cheek. "It sounded pretty awful. Want to talk about it?"

"No. Not really. It was nothing. Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep." He kissed her gently, flashing a reassuring grin before laying himself back down, rolling onto his side, his back now to her.

He hadn't had this particular nightmare in years. It always had the power to bring forth feelings of utter helplessness, uncertainty and incompetence, feelings he occasionally wrestled with during that first year as Starfleet's Boy Wonder.

Deneva had probably been the most traumatic event he experienced professionally during his honeymoon year as captain of the _Enterprise_. Losing Edith had had a profound effect on him personally, but when dealing with the singular problem of eliminating the creatures infecting the colonists, the potential for disaster, coupled with the personal losses he'd experienced, had left him shaken and reeling for weeks afterward. He'd hidden it well from his friends, not allowing any outward signs of his internal strife to show, but when he was alone, thinking about how things could have gone wrong, it always ended badly, his heart pounding, his body drenched with sweat.

In reality they had been successful, saving both the colonists and Spock and Peter, but the dream explored all those fears that hadn't been realized, the might-have-beens of that horrific day, had things not worked out in their favor. In this insidious nightmare, they never did discover the secret to destroying the parasites. Kirk had watched Spock slowly succumb to the pain the creatures inflicted upon him, driven mad, dying in unimaginable agony. Seeing this, McCoy had opted to 'pull the plug' on Peter, rather than let the boy regain consciousness only to suffer the same fate as the Vulcan.

Without a solution to the infestation problem, they'd had to destroy the colony in order to prevent the spread of the neural parasites. Not only had he ordered the execution of over a million people, he took it upon himself to carry out that order, not wanting any of his crew to have that blood on their hands.

The dream was terrifying. The memories and feelings it evoked never failed to leave him trembling, weak, and utterly spent, the emotional distress increasing exponentially as snippets of this vicious assault on his psyche coalesced out of the darkness during the immediate, post-waking moments.

Initially, visions of Sam, Aurelan and Peter as they had appeared in death floated before him, the wound inflicted by their loss raw, jagged, bleeding. While he and Sam hadn't been nearly as close over the last ten years as they had been when they were boys, Kirk had always regarded his older brother with a certain measure of awe. To have the idol of his youth taken from him in such an abrupt and brutal fashion, coupled with the loss of Sam's remaining family members, had been devastating, and taken a severe toll on him.

The feelings would then regress to revulsion and self-loathing as he remembered annihilating the colony. _I have become Kodos_, his mind would cry. _For all those years I harbored a terrible hatred toward that man for not finding another solution, and yet I wound up doing the exact same thing, following the same path he set all those years ago. All my life I've said I don't believe in the no-win scenario, and yet when it really mattered, when I had the chance to prove it, I was unable to solve the problem. I am no better than he._

And then the final, most powerful wave of shock and grief would hit. He would see again Spock's agonizing death at the hand of the mindless aliens that had invaded the Vulcan's body. Spock was so much stronger than the average human; because of this, they couldn't risk confining him to sickbay for those final hours. In order to ensure the safety of the crew and the ship he had ordered that the first officer be placed in the brig, two guards posted outside the door, escape impossible, his fate sealed. Kirk had watched helplessly from behind the protection of the forcefield as Spock had first tried tearing off his own skin in an effort to remove the organisms infesting his body, finally battering himself against the walls of his prison, his face bruised, bloodied, until, like Aurelan he drew a last, convulsive breath, his body contorted in indescribable agony, no longer able to tolerate the excruciating pain they were inflicting on him, a piercing scream ripped from his throat. Kirk had never heard such an anguished sound escape from the Vulcan, and the fact that he could not be with Spock during his time of need, could not touch him or offer any comfort, helpless to stop the inevitable, made witnessing his First's final moments almost unbearable.

He was startled back to reality by Lori's soft voice. "Jim, it's okay. Whatever it was, it's over; you're safe now." She snuggled up close to his back, draping an arm over his side and grasping his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He returned the pressure, comforted by her warm breath as it caressed the back of his neck. Wiping the lone tear from his cheek with his free hand, he willed the disconcerting images from his mind, falling into a fitful sleep.

oooOOOooo

He awoke to the aromas of coffee and bacon tickling his senses. Glancing at the other side of the bed, he saw that it was empty. Following his nose, he made his way into the kitchen. Lori was standing before the stove wearing one of his shirts. It was oversized and loose, dangling to just above her knees, effectively concealing the shapely body he knew to be underneath.

Walking quietly up behind her he slid his arms around her waist, tugging her against him, nuzzling her neck. "That smells wonderful," he whispered into the hollow at the base of her throat, "and breakfast doesn't smell too bad, either."

He was rewarded with a chuckle which he could feel rumble against his ribcage as she pressed herself closer to him. "As you know, cooking is not my forte, so wait until you taste it before you pass judgment," she teased.

"Well, at least the coffee is a safe bet," he said, releasing her and retrieving a mug from one of the cabinets. He proceeded to fill his cup with the rich, fragrant brew. Sipping carefully at the hot liquid, he grinned openly at her. "That hits the spot. Excellent, as usual."

"Well, I'm glad I can at least get that part right." Her smile was warm, radiant. "Go sit down, this'll be ready in a few minutes."

He retreated to the table, mug in hand, allowing his eyes to travel over her as she quickly finished preparing their meal. _I could definitely fall in love with her_, he assured himself. _There's nothing stopping me – no career, no ship, nothing preventing me from allowing myself to be happy. I've certainly earned it, _he tried to convince himself. _I deserve a chance at happiness, and now there's nothing standing in my way._ Movement roused him from his silent musings.

"Here you go," he said easily, placing a plate laden with eggs, bacon and fried potatoes before him and slipping into a chair herself. She waited expectantly for him to take a bite.

He indulged her. "Spectacular," he said, chewing deliberately, his eyes never leaving her face, "and the food's not too bad, either."

He was rewarded with a flush of red coloring her cheeks as she began to nibble at the contents of her own plate. They ate in silence for several minutes, the only sound the chink of forks against tableware, before she glanced up at him, her eyes shining.

"Jim, I just had a wonderful idea. We both have several weeks of leave accrued. What would you say to us getting the hell out of here for a while? We deserve the break, and I promise you won't regret it." There was that playful, impish look he had grown accustomed to seeing.

He considered that carefully.

"You know, my uncle has a cabin in Idaho. No one uses it at this time of year. We could stay there – it's very isolated and secluded. We could hike and fish during the day…and keep each other warm at night."

"Sounds perfect," she said, coming over and settling on his lap, her arms twining around his neck, "but I'm awfully cold right now," she pouted.

"Well, I'm sure there's something I can do to help with that," he whispered huskily, feeling a familiar stirring in his groin, reaching up to capture her lips with his own…

oooOOOooo

Two hours later as he sat behind his desk in the Ops Center, he was amazed at how she could so completely separate the personal from the professional. Once they passed through those doors she conducted herself in an exemplary fashion; no one would suspect that they were anything other than superior and subordinate. It certainly made things less complicated. Most women he had known in the past were likely to exhibit signs of jealousy and possessiveness at this stage in their relationship, particularly when he had to work closely with a woman, but that wasn't the case with Lori. She readily understood his need to work well with others, and if that was facilitated from time to time by him pouring on the charm, she was okay with that. His estimation of her increased another notch. She just might be the one.

As far as their leave went, there was bound to be some speculation about the two of them being gone at the same time, but they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. After all it's not like they were serving on a ship together where one of them might have to send the other into harm's way. There was no conflict of interest, and no regulations prohibiting a close, personal relationship. Who knew where this could lead? They'd be leaving in a week, and he found himself eager with anticipation. It had been a long time since he'd permitted himself a lengthy, relaxing leave. As a matter of fact, the last one had been on Triani Prime with Bones and Spock. He realized with a jolt he hadn't thought about either man in almost a week. He glanced appreciatively at Lori's backside through the glass front to his office as she made her way around the workspace. Yes, maybe she was just what the doctor ordered…

oooOOOooo

They had been in Idaho for three days now, and were thoroughly enjoying time away from work and each other's company. They had arrived in the small town about an hour south of the cabin, where Kirk rented two horses. These fine specimens served to pack in the supplies they would need for their ten-day stay at the cabin, and would double as their mode of transportation during their time in Idaho's vast, untouched wilderness.

Kirk had risen before dawn, kissing Lori lightly on the forehead as she slept. He was warmed by her response – the corners of her mouth twitched, and she burrowed herself deeper under the thick quilt.

Tiptoeing from the room he filled a thermos with coffee and headed for the barn. The horses nickered as he approached, snorting and stomping impatiently, their breath making small, white clouds in the chill morning air. Saddling up the bay gelding, he mounted his steed and headed into the woods just as the first rays of sunlight were filtering through the branches above.

He followed the trail he knew would lead to a large meadow. Lori would try just about anything, but she was no equestrian. Following the wooded trails at a leisurely walk or a slow trot across an open field was about the extent of her horsemanship skills, but this morning he felt the need for more.

Jabbing his mount in the ribs with his heels, they burst from the cover of the trees, racing across the meadow in an all out gallop. As the wind whipped through his hair and caused his eyes to tear, suddenly he was transported to his youth, following closely on Sam's heels as the two of them rode bareback, urging their POA ponies, the breed first developed in Iowa in the 20th century, to ever greater speeds.

He needed this; needed it desperately. It was one of the few things that let him know he was still alive. When he was flying along at breakneck speed, feeling the knot and stretch of powerful muscles beneath his thighs, hearing the thunder of hooves reverberate through crisp morning air rich with the heady scent of pine, everything else seemed to melt into the background. It was as if time had stopped and he was locked into this moment, no painful past or uncertain future to contend with.

It was exhilarating. He hadn't experienced an adrenaline rush like this for quite some time. As the trees rushed by in a kaleidoscope of greens and browns he listened to the pounding in his temples, the breath as it exploded from his chest with each stride of the horse below him. The feeling of release was overwhelming, as if he were standing in a torrential downpour, the icy rainwater serving to wash away the unease and sense of loss he'd been experiencing of late. He knew this euphoria would be fleeting, however. Initially he'd thought coming here would be healing, rejuvenating, giving him time to regroup and face head-on the course his life had now taken, but somehow having nothing but time to reflect on his current situation had made things worse, not better. The newfound sense of independence, of escape, just served to further underscore the nature of the glorified cage in which he now found himself.

Late last night he lay in the grass in front of the cabin mesmerized by the star-studded sky. In San Francisco it was a rarity for him to see more than a few stars; between the fog, pollution and illumination cast off by the city, the unspoiled beauty of the night sky was all but obliterated.

But not here. The air here was fresh, pristine, and the nearest major city was over three hours away. As his eyes had traveled across the sky he'd been able to pick out Mars, Venus and the golden splash of color that was the Milky Way from among the many constellations visible against the wide expanse of the cosmos. Subconsciously, his gaze had been drawn to Eridani, which led to thoughts of Spock and his years in space. God how he missed that. It hurt, but that chapter of his life was over, or so he had tried to persuade himself.

_I'm not a brash, young lieutenant anymore. It's time I started acting my age. Besides, maybe if I'm not off flying around the galaxy at warp speed I can start up a relationship with my son. Carol can't possibly object to my career now. I can't believe he's ten now. I've already missed so much of his life, so many milestones. I've got a lot of lost time to make up for…_

Lori's voice had roused him from his self-absorption. "Jim? What on earth are you doing out there, lying in the grass like that? It's freezing outside." He heard the door swing shut, only to open a few moments later, her muffled steps shuffling across the porch and then through the damp grass as she made her way to him, laying down beside him, molding her body tightly to his, covering them both with a warm blanket.

He had reached over and drew her close, pressing her head to his shoulder, idly stroking her soft, silky hair.

They lay like this for several minutes, neither speaking, until finally she had interrupted the steady chirping of night insects echoing in the woods around them.

"You okay? I got a little worried when I woke up and you weren't there."

"I'm fine, just stargazing – something it's almost impossible to do in San Francisco with all the ambient light."

"Do you miss it? Being out there, I mean?"

"No," he had lied evenly. "My life's here now, with you." Somehow he had managed to conjure up a believable, warm smile.

She had burrowed herself deeper into his chest. "Oh Jim, I'm so happy."

"Me, too," he replied, pulling her on top of him. He had almost fooled himself into thinking it was true – almost…

oooOOOooo

When he returned from his morning ride, Lori was in the shower. He considered joining her for an instant, but headed for the kitchen instead, with the idea of making breakfast for her for a change.

She popped into the kitchen twenty minutes later, a soft robe cinched tightly around her waist, toweling off her still-damp hair.

"Hey. Where'd you go? Is this going to be a trend – me waking up and finding your side of the bed empty?" she asked lightly, a smile taking the sting from her words.

"I took Kootenai out for a good, stiff run this morning. He's been overly antsy for the last few days, so I just wanted to burn off some of his excess energy." He began loading a hefty stack of pancakes onto a serving platter.

"You hungry? I'm starved. An early morning ride always boosts my appetite."

"You know I'm always ready to eat your homemade flapjacks," she said with a grin, grabbing two plates and silverware before heading for the table.

"If you like them, thank mom. She always made them for Sam and me when we were little. 'An old family recipe handed down for generations,' she used to say. There was nothing like them. Spoiled me for any other pancakes," he said, setting the warm, fluffy cakes on the table along with a small plate of sausages. Lori quickly helped herself, slathering them with butter and maple syrup.

"I can see why – they're absolutely delicious," she agreed, swallowing her first bite.

He retrieved two mugs of coffee, setting one in front of her before taking a seat and filling his own plate with several of the large, hearty griddlecakes.

He attacked his plate with gusto, but soon felt Lori's gaze upon him. "What?" he asked finally around a mouthful of sausage. Her fork poised above her plate, she was regarding him with a strange look. "They taste fine to me." He was genuinely nonplussed.

"No, they're great." She stopped, trying to find the right words, setting the fork down on the table. "Did you mean what you said last night?" The overly large, green eyes were intense, searching his face.

"I said a lot of things last night," he answered truthfully, stalling for time.

"The part about being happy; the part where you said your life was here now, with me."

He lowered his fork as well, focusing his full attention on her. "Of course I did. You're the best thing that's happened to me since I got back."

She dropped her eyes at that, grabbing her mug with trembling hands and taking a quick swallow.

He was beside her in an instant, squatting next to her chair, gently tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. Oh so tenderly. "Lori, what's wrong? Why would you think I didn't mean it?"

"Oh, Jim, I'm sorry." Her eyes filled with tears. "It's just that I'm starting to fall for you, and given your reputation, I'm afraid that's not a wise decision." She looked away, wiping at her eyes.

He slowly turned her face to his again, absently stroking a cheek with his thumb. "Lori, there is no one else, and I'm happier than I've been in years." That was the truth, right? He hadn't felt this way about anyone since Miramanee. She was good for him, and just what he needed to help him make the transition from renowned space traveler to desk-bound paper pusher a little easier to bear. And he was settling into that routine. Over the last six months, with Lori at his side, he'd started to take some satisfaction in his new rank and position. It couldn't hold a candle to his years in space, but there were some rewarding aspects to his new job. He was helping to make things safer for the next generation of space farers. Surely that had to count for something. Unsure of what else to do to reassure her, he pressed his lips gently to hers.

She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck and returning the kiss. It was tender, and bittersweet, and he felt it hit him in the pit of his stomach, strengthening his resolve. After a few moments he pulled away from her slightly.

"You know, we could make things more permanent," he assured her, the corners of his mouth turning up in a soft smile.

"Really? You mean that?"

He nodded, again wiping a tear from her cheek.

"When?"

"As soon as we get back, or if you want a bigger ceremony, whenever suits you. It really doesn't matter to me – I just want to be with you."

"Oh Jim, I love you," she said through the tears, burrowing her head against his shoulder.

"I love you, too." There. He'd done it. He'd taken the first real step toward a clearly defined, unambiguous future, leaving the _Enterprise,_ and his painful past, behind him. So why was he so numb all of a sudden…?

McCoy – one year

The past six months, although wonderful, had not been without their difficulties. When Joanna arrived they were virtually strangers to one another, despite the fact that they were father and daughter. Sitting in an overstuffed wingback chair, bourbon in hand, he stole a glance at his not-so-little-anymore child, engrossed in some show he couldn't stomach on the plasma holoviewer, and reflected on how far they'd come.

For the first few weeks they'd tiptoed cautiously around each other, acclimating themselves to the other's routines and personality quirks. They were both adults, and had long since developed their own, unique patterns of behavior. In light of this, neither was willing to do anything that might jeopardize their attempt at reconciliation.

Their professional relationship had progressed much more quickly than their personal one. Joanna had proven to be quite a skilled and proficient nurse, and after a few weeks of observing how he did things was often able to anticipate what he wanted and needed, both in the operating theatre and the examination rooms. He marveled at how well she had adapted to his way of doing things, the transition almost seamless. Within a short time, it was as if they had been working together for years, and he couldn't help but compare her to Christine Chapel. Although he and his head nurse had butted heads on more than one occasion, more often than not they almost seemed to function as a single unit, especially toward the end of the five-year mission, so accustomed were they to the other's work habits.

It had taken some time, but they started making strides in their personal relationship as well, gradually settling into a comfortable routine – seeing patients during the day, cooking dinner together in the evening, and sitting on the back porch at night, talking long into the wee hours of the morning.

Joanna filled McCoy in on their years apart – the experiences she had and the friends she'd made on that distant colony world, trying to show him that all her memories weren't unpleasant ones. Her life with her mom and stepfather had been good for the most part, despite the fact that their relationship had not been particularly close, or loving.

She even mentioned that she had done some extensive research into the teachings of Dr. Severin and had briefly toyed with the idea of joining that movement. She understood now that the desire had been fostered by her need to feel that she belonged somewhere, to someone, but that plan had fallen by the wayside when Jocelyn and Nick had sent her off to nursing school on Sargasso. As it turned out, one of her good friends had dropped everything to become 'one,' but she had lost touch with the young man, never learning his fate. She had been truly saddened when McCoy told her what they'd found on the planet Eden.

At first, McCoy had not spoken at all about his time in space; the wounds were still too fresh. He'd delighted more in sharing some of his old family recipes with her, the personal time they spent making meals together and just talking doing much to bring them closer.

He also told her stories about family members she really hadn't had a chance to connect with once Jocelyn and Nick had moved her off world, and of the mischief he and his two young cousins had gotten into as children. All things he would have shared with her when she'd been growing up if he'd had the chance.

She seemed to really enjoy these anecdotes, and eventually, as he became more and more comfortable around her, McCoy started talking about his adventures on the _Enterprise,_ regaling her with stories of the distant worlds they had visited and the alien civilizations they had contacted. It took several months, but his stories began to turn to those of his friends, centering on his interactions with them. Somehow, this made the separation easier to bear, as if by telling his daughter of them they would live on, just as they had been, before everything had gone to hell in a handbasket at the end of the five-year mission.

He might run into Jim Kirk on occasion – if he could bring himself to talk to the man; the last time they had spoken things had been said and done that had probably changed their relationship for good – but if Spock completed Kolinahr as it seemed he was determined to do, McCoy knew it meant the end of their novel, unorthodox friendship. God he missed them both.

He also told her about the escapades of other _Enterprise_ crewmen who had touched his life, events ranging from drunken bar stories with the iron-livered Montgomery Scott to practical jokes he had orchestrated with Chekov and others, and how he'd fallen victim to some himself. Tales of Uhura's beautiful singing voice, Kevin Reilly's not-so-beautiful voice, and Sulu's numerous, eclectic hobbies. Not all the memories brought a smile to his lips, however. He told her of some of those crewmen who hadn't returned to their families, feeling that by remembering their ultimate sacrifice it would somehow give their loss meaning.

It occurred to him then what a fine bunch of individuals had made up that crew; just how lucky he and the other senior officers had been to have served with such a disciplined, intelligent, skilled and dedicated group of people. He realized that he missed them all terribly, in a different way than he felt the absence of Jim and Spock, but it served to remind him that despite now finally having a relationship with his daughter, his life aboard the ship had been more enjoyable than he'd thought at first blush.

Not that his current circumstance wasn't fulfilling, but somehow he felt there was more he was meant to do with his life, and it could only be accomplished out there among the stars.

_Kaiidth_, he thought – one of the few Vulcan philosophies Spock had taught him that he actually believed. _The cosmos has a master plan for all of us; mine will be revealed to me eventually, I just need to be happy with what I have now._ He sipped at his drink, his thoughts once again turning to Joanna and his patients, and he realized that for the time being at least, he was happy and content, and finally at peace with the world.

oooOOOooo

He'd been working on this for over a week now, but as yet had made virtually no headway. Spock's notes were crystal clear, written in the Vulcan's legible, sure hand, but the content continued to elude him. _Damn you, you pointy-eared hobgoblin! When we started this, I never thought I'd have to finish it without you._

He rubbed absently at the crick in his neck, trying to ease the sore muscles, stiff from hours of poring over these notes. Despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to make heads or tails out of any of it. _I'm just too tired,_ he assured himself. _Anything that blasted Vulcan can think up I can make sense out of eventually. I just need to put my head down for a few minutes, rest my eyes a bit, and then it will all be clear as…_

He was startled by a hand laid gently on his shoulders. "Dad? You okay?" Through a sleepy fog he realized the voice belonged to Joanna.

He jerked his head up at her touch. "Huh? I'm awake, what's wrong?" he asked, rapidly blinking bleary eyes.

"Nothing dad. It's very late. You should get some sleep if you want to be on your toes for your patients tomorrow." She squeezed his shoulder gently.

"I'm fine," he declared, sitting up straight after retrieving several sheets of paper from the floor. He fussed over the unruly mess, trying to give the impression of stacking the numerous sheets of paper and handful of padds on his desk into neat, organized piles. "I've got to get my notes done for this presentation I'll be giving on techniques to use computers to help those who are severely physically impaired communicate."

After the events of Talos IV, he'd teamed up with Spock, the two of them collaborating on trying to discover a way for patients like Chris Pike to express themselves. They'd still be encumbered by their dysfunctional bodies, but at least their minds would be free, and they'd once again be able to participate in the world around them. He'd handled the medical issues, while Spock had worked tirelessly to come up with a computer program and designs for a device that would function seamlessly with the patient's brain waves. Trouble was he'd always expected to present this research to the medical community with Spock at his side to expertly clarify the technical aspects of the application. For the most part, all he knew was that it would work, but explaining the hows and whys was beyond him. "I'll be leaving for the medical conference in Vilnius in just over a week."

"All the more reason to get some rest," she said reproachfully. "If you need more time to prepare I can reschedule your appointments for the next few days."

"No, you don't have to do that. My patients come before this. I'll find the time somewhere to get it done. Besides, time's not what I really need. Spock was working on this with me. As you know, technology and I aren't the best of friends, and Spock's technical notes are all Greek to me. That damn Vulcan has left me with my ass hanging out."

"Now dad," she admonished firmly, "don't you go blaming Mr. Spock for doing what he felt compelled to do. Besides, from the stories you've told me, it sounds like he _saved_ your ass on more than one occasion." Her look was smug, knowing.

"That's not the point," he countered testily. "We're on the verge of a medical breakthrough here, and I can't finish it without Spock, or more accurately, there's no reason I should _have_ to finish it without Spock."

"I see," she said, astutely. "In other words, this really isn't about the work, but the choices your two friends made, and the fact that you've taken exception to those choices."

"Bloody fools! Neither one of them ever did know what was good for him."

She pulled up a chair, seating herself next to McCoy and resting a hand on his forearm.

"But you know what? They're both grown men, quite capable of making decisions for themselves. How can you be so sure that they aren't the right ones? Don't you trust your friends?"

He chewed his lower lip before answering her. "They're both stubborn to a fault, and even though they're two of the smartest people I've ever met, they're both lacking a healthy dose of common sense."

"Be that as it may, you have to trust them, dad. If they're as smart as you say, have a little faith that they'll see the error of their ways and correct their mistakes." A beat. "It worked for me…and you."

He turned shocked eyes onto his only child. She was just twenty-two but possessed a wisdom beyond her years. He covered her hand with his. "You're absolutely right, honey. I've pled my case and it's up to them now to figure out what the hell they need to do." He rubbed at his eyes. "I guess I'm just overly-tired."

"This only stresses what I've been saying all along dad – you need help here. We really need to think about hiring another doctor to take some of the burden off your shoulders. There's a doctor I've been working with when I do my volunteer work at the hospital. Will you at least meet him? I think you two will hit it off. You wouldn't even have to bring him on full time. You can just have him fill in for you when you're away or need a few days to prepare for a conference you'll be attending. Why don't we have him over for dinner tomorrow? It'd give you a chance to meet him and see if you think he'd fit in here."

"That sounds like a plan, honey." He yawned widely, stretching his arms languorously over his head. "But right now, a little sack time is just what the doctor ordered." And with that, the two of them headed upstairs to their rooms.

oooOOOooo

The speech had gone well. His and Spock's theories were now going to be put into practice. He shook his head, smiling to himself. And to think, Mark Kinney had supplied him with just enough technical assistance to be able to adequately explain how the computer program and machine Spock had designed would mesh with the patient's individual EEG pattern.

As he, Joanna and Mark sat around the dining room table last week, the conversation had naturally turned to medicine. McCoy had been impressed; Mark was a gifted young doctor, all of twenty-six, who would go on to do great things he was sure. It had taken all of about five minutes for McCoy to decide he liked the young man immensely, and that he'd make a great addition to their small staff.

As it turned out Mark had studied many of the journal articles McCoy had written regarding medical advances he had discovered during his time in space. Mark pressed him for additional information, and the discussion wound its way to the conference he'd be attending in a few days. McCoy lamented the fact that he couldn't quite follow all the technical notes Spock had left for his portion of the device.

More tech savvy than McCoy, but certainly no Spock by any stretch of the imagination, Mark had volunteered to look over the material. After several evenings of intense work, the two of them had been able to piece together enough of Spock's theories so that McCoy wouldn't sound like a complete amateur when presenting the information to the other medical professionals and scientists who'd be in the audience.

He knew without a doubt that the computer programmers and technicians who would help build the prototype would have no trouble deciphering Spock's notes, but at least the doctors in the room now understood the physical science behind how the device would work.

Idly he scratched at his chin, rough from the day-and-a-half growth of stubble there. He hadn't had time to shave before catching the tube back to the States – no transporter for him, thank you – and beard-repressing gels had always irritated his skin.

He'd always hated shaving, but hadn't had a say in the matter during his twelve years in the service. Facial hair of any type was expressly forbidden by Starfleet regulations. _Well, that sure as hell isn't a problem now,_ he thought. _Maybe it's time I grew a beard…_

Spock – one year

He and the other acolytes stood patiently in the dimly lit chamber located deep within the side of the mountain as T'Sai explained the physical trial in which they were to participate today.

"Being a desert world, large bodies of water are rare on the surface of our planet. Most of our potable liquid comes from underground sources such as this," she said, gesturing to the large depression in the middle of the room.

It was marked by an oversized, subterranean pool, the water dark, almost black, its bottom not visible. Despite the already low temperature of the room, the chill air rolling off the surface made it feel as if someone had left the door to a large refrigeration unit ajar. The faint, ambient light reflected off its calm surface, creating the illusion of a smooth, unmarred sheet of ice before them.

"For this exercise, you will submerge yourselves in the water. In order to pass this test, you must remain below the surface for a period of at least ten minutes on a single breath. The temperature is quite cool; in addition to regulating your breathing for the time required, you must also regulate your core body temperature in such a way as to prevent the onset of hypothermia.

"I and the other masters shall be present. If you experience any distress simply raise thy head above the water and we shall assist thee from the pool. If you have become too chilled to move call out with thy mind and thee shall be rescued.

"This exercise will teach thee to control thy body functions at a level unattainable by most Vulcans. It will serve to demonstrate thy mental mastery over thy physical condition." She paused, her gaze sweeping over the class. Spock heard the nervous shifting of feet, and several throats being cleared softly. Behind him there was the faint intake of breath; he realized it came from Stilek, who was standing just beyond his right shoulder.

T'Sai's eyes came to rest on him and Spock met the look calmly, blandly, without emotion. His outward appearance did not betray his inner thoughts. _Once again, I have been singled out for failure despite the fact that my performance during the Pon T'Khalivar surpassed that of most of the other students. It seems that I shall always be suspect as a result of my hybrid nature._ He guarded these thoughts carefully, ensuring he did not project them to those present in the room.

"If you are prepared, we may begin."

"We are prepared," the small group chanted in unison.

"Then remove your robes and enter the water."

Spock was the first of the candidates to jump in, splashes resounding all around him as the remainder of the class followed. As he broke the surface the breath was nearly sucked from his lungs as the shock of the icy water passed through his system. His thoughts were instantly turned to another, similar event, where he and Jim had made a dizzying leap off a cliff into a deep pool below to avoid capture by indigenous hostiles on a First Contact planet.

Still unable to remember events clearly, Spock had almost drowned that day. It was only due to Jim's quick thinking and stubborn refusal to let Spock go that he had survived that mission at all. They had been stranded for three days, Spock's desert-bred lungs unable to stave off the severe pulmonary infection that was an inevitable result of his near-drowning.

As his condition worsened, he had slipped into unconsciousness and nearly lost his life, but again Jim had pulled him from the brink, initiating a mind meld that had helped to sustain him until they were rescued.

Spock remembered quite clearly the emotions that singular act had triggered within him. It was that meld which had caused their fledgling link to evolve into the more gratifying bond of t'hy'la, and set them on the path which had ultimately led him here, to Gol. He felt his control slipping.

_I must not allow myself to contemplate these past events. I must _focus! He deliberately pushed these memories aside, calling on all the mind disciplines he had been taught to this point. Consciously blocking out the world around him he strove to regulate the flow of oxygen-rich blood to his vital organs. His extremities were already numb after only four minutes in the frigid water, but he chose to ignore that, fixing his attention instead on his heartbeat, slowing it to about one-third its normal rate. He then concentrated on the oxygen-rich blood flowing through his arteries, diverting it to his brain and lungs. His other organs would recover from oxygen deprivation, but his mind needed to remain alert if he were to complete this test, and by sending oxygen to his lungs, it would lessen the build-up of carbon dioxide, the trigger for breathing in all species which depended on oxygen-rich air for survival.

He floated in the blackness, his autonomic nervous system under strict control, his mind beginning to wander. Visions of his boyhood on Vulcan began to coalesce out of the darkness, but he permitted himself to examine only the positive memories – time spent walking in the desert with I-Chaya at his side; immersing himself in the unfamiliar, thrilling worlds of his mother's antique Terran books; his weekly lessons on the Vulcan lyre and Terran piano. These were the things that had comforted him as a child; brought peace to an otherwise tumultuous and often difficult existence growing up as a half-breed on his father's planet.

Time seemed to stand still and yet race forward at the speed of light. His consciousness floated to a new plane of existence where nothing else mattered but keeping his brain alert and his lungs still. It was as if he could see each green corpuscle deliver its precious cargo and then proceed leisurely away in slow motion, making room for the next one in line. A steady progression, approaching in single file, halting, traveling on, one at a time…

Strong hands lifting him landed him squarely back in the moment. He felt himself laid gently on the stone floor, enveloped in a warm blanket, a voice calling to him. It was weak, muffled, and at first he was unable to distinguish the words. "Spock, are you all right?" Words he had heard often during his tenure on the _Enterprise_, but these were not spoken with the same inflection or concern to which he had grown accustomed. Cautiously he opened his eyes, only to be met with the sight of Master T'Sai bending over him.

"Are thee well, child? Thee remained below the surface for fifteen point seven three minutes – considerably longer than any of the other acolytes – and we became concerned that thee were in distress, unable to communicate thy need."

He glanced around at the ring of faces above him, some belonging to subordinate masters, the remainder to other novices swathed in thick blankets, their wet hair plastered to their heads.

He struggled to right himself; to force his frozen limbs to raise him to a seated position. "I am uninjured, Master," he croaked out in a hoarse, barely audible whisper. One acolyte bent, and he felt himself gently supported, Stilek on his knees beside him.

"Then thee have performed admirably." Did he detect a hint of approval, of grudging acceptance in her voice? Surely not. The cold must still be affecting him. He again tried to get to his feet, but his actions were halted by a firm hand on his shoulder. "Rest for a few minutes; allow the blood to return to your frozen limbs. There is no shame in this, for you remained submerged longer than any of us." Whispered softly, pitched for his ears alone. He glanced at Stilek and saw compassion, coupled with awe, flare in the dark blue eyes.

"This concludes your lessons for today. All of you may return to thy chambers now. Warm yourselves, and meditate on thy success or failure of this exercise." As the students began to file from the dank space, Stilek helped him to climb onto unsteady legs.

"I shall assist him, Master." He caught T'Sai's eyebrow raised in approval as the two of them made their way from the room.

Spock and Stilek proceeded along the dark, narrow corridors to the dormitory in silence, but much to his surprise, Spock felt a tingle of pride surround him, as surely as he felt the strong arm wrapped securely about his waist.

Upon reaching Spock's quarters, Stilek nudged the door open, settling Spock on the sparse mattress. A particularly strong shudder passed through him, and Stilek crossed the small space, returning with a thick robe.

"Here Spock, cover yourself with this as well. I am well aware that you are quite skilled at 'mind over matter,' but this will help to raise your core temperature more quickly."

Spock glanced up sharply at that. Humor? Or was Stilek simply teasing him? Humor was not an activity to which the average Vulcan was given. He looked askance at Stilek, and was sure he saw laughter flutter about the man's eyes. Spock took the proffered robe with a resigned nod of the head, pulling the garment over the blanket still draped snugly around his shoulders.

"A worthy performance, Spock. Once again, you have shown your ability to exercise mastery over your physical self. There are many here who wish to possess the control you exhibited today." Stilek's gaze bored into him. "And many who are troubled by the fact that they were out-performed by a hybrid."

Spock eyed him thoughtfully. McCoy had been given to barbed comments, often meant to coax an emotional response out of him, or as a way for the doctor to vent his frustration with the staid Vulcan, but like Jim Kirk, when Stilek said something of this nature, it was intended as a way to express a different point altogether. He waited patiently for Stilek to clarify his statement.

"Whereas I am of the opinion that it is this very aspect of your nature which allows you to excel," his companion continued evenly.

Spock found he could hold his tongue no longer. "In what manner?" A forced whisper, his voice still not fully recovered. To Spock's mind, his human half was responsible for a number of hurdles the other acolytes didn't have to contend with.

"Hybrids are always of hardier stock than their pure-blooded counterparts. As a scientist, you should know this. And they often exhibit the most desirable attributes of both parents," Stilek supplied straightforwardly.

"That may be true, but I do not see how my human half can possibly be of benefit to me in the pursuit of Kolinahr." His voice was regaining some of its former strength.

"You are operating under the false assumption that only negative traits result from your human half. But in addition to their emotionality, humans also possess the ability to view things intuitively; they exhibit a stubborn desire to succeed at all costs, despite terrible odds, and will often stop at nothing to achieve this success no matter how hopeless a situation appears to be. Admirable qualities, wouldn't you agree?"

Stilek had just provided a perfect analysis of the complex mix of idiosyncrasies that made up the unique character of James Kirk. Spock blinked.

"I have no doubt that had it not been for the influence of your human half, had my fate rested solely in the hands of your logical, orderly side, I would have met my doom during Pon T'Khalivar."

Spock dropped his eyes, compressing his lips into a thin line.

Sensing Spock's unease, Stilek continued gently. "Please, do not misunderstand this statement. Had kaiidth placed another in proximity to me during my time of need, I have no doubt that given the average Vulcan's sense of propriety, of following instructions implicitly, without question, I would have joined Sipek and T'Lara in their journey to oblivion.

"I disagree with that assessment," Spock responded immediately. "From what I have seen and experienced, the typical Vulcan would go out of his or her way to aid another in distress. Emotions and intuition play no role in how they conduct themselves; decisions are based solely on logic. And preserving the life of another is inherently logical."

"That may be true within the parameters of everyday life, but we are sticklers for our rituals and traditions. You, of all people, should realize this. Yours was the first instance of Kal-if-fee in over a century, and T'Pau would have allowed you to kill an innocent human, who did not have a complete understanding of our laws and customs, rather than make an exception to how things have been done since the time of the beginning. Despite our claims of logic and peacefulness, there is still much barbarity present in the Vulcan soul."

"No culture is without its flaws, ours included, but if this is truly how you view our society, then why are you here?" It was rude and inappropriate to ask such a thing. Spock shook his head, shocked that the question had managed to slip out before he could stop it.

"As with any culture and its customs, there are certain practices and behaviors which seem incomprehensible to outsiders; ceremonies viewed by the uninitiated as a weakness in that civilization. But given our nature, particularly as Vulcan males, there are protocols which work for us." Stilek halted, dropping his eyes, his fists clenched tightly at his side.

"Forgive me, it was improper of me to request information of such a personal nature. I withdraw the question," Spock said, glancing up at his companion.

"Please, it is a legitimate concern, and the time has come for me to inform you of my reasoning."

In one fluid motion, Stilek seated himself on the floor before Spock, legs folded beneath him. As he began speaking, it was obvious that his eyes were focused on some distant memory. "I shall undergo Pon Farr within the next year. For seventeen point eight four years, ever since the onset of my first Pon Farr, I was bonded to T'Aria. Ours was also an arranged pairing, as was yours, but we were highly compatible. Our personalities meshed at a very young age, and we were looking forward to the time of our marriage with great anticipation.

"My bond to T'Aria was more fulfilling than I could have ever expected. Our life as a wedded couple was exhilarating and rewarding, and we awaited with great eagerness the birth of our first child. Our union during my Pon Farr was fruitful and we soon learned T'Aria was carrying twins – a boy and a girl. Unbeknownst to us, unforeseen complications would soon overshadow our anticipation.

"T'Aria is of the rare blood type, t-negative. My blood type is k-positive, and naturally, both our children were an amalgam of these blood types. As you know, serious medical conditions can arise in a mother of that rare blood type carrying a child who is not, and this can present a grave risk to the health of both her and her unborn child.

"Despite careful monitoring of her condition and the best efforts of the healers, our children did not survive. Our daughter was stillborn twelve weeks early, and our son survived for three days before succumbing to the trauma of his premature birth. As if this did not present enough of a challenge for us, the ordeal left T'Aria sterile."

"I grieve with thee," Spock replied softly, his voice gravelly, hoarse once again.

Stilek nodded, allowing his thanks and appreciation to show briefly behind his eyes. "As Vulcans, we are taught that all things happen for a reason, and we should use those events that impact our lives, whether it be in a positive or negative way, to bring about change for the better.

"It is an aspect of our heritage most Vulcans prefer to ignore, but as a direct result of Pon Farr, there are numerous hybrid children born on fringe colony worlds, especially those of mixed Romulan and Vulcan blood. Due to the extreme differences in our cultures, these children are often accepted by neither parent and left to fend for themselves."

Stilek paused, locking eyes with Spock. "We lost two children we treasured, before we even had the chance to know them. But since they were ours, of pure Vulcan blood, did this somehow make them more worthy of acceptance than children of mixed heritage?

"In light of this, T'Aria left her position as a physicist and started an orphanage in our region, with the goal of bringing these children home to Vulcan and placing them with suitable families. As you know, being telepaths, a parental bond must develop in order for the children to thrive. This was the first hurdle which had to be overcome. Additionally, because of their interracial backgrounds, it can be difficult to get prospective parents to overlook the stigma associated with these forgotten souls. T'Aria worked tirelessly to enlighten others, and we soon found we were able to place a number of these lost children in welcoming Vulcan households.

"For the longest time, this was enough for us. We gained tremendous satisfaction from matching children with compatible families and were quite content to facilitate the placement of these children, until the arrival of Saamlan. Previous to this, we had decided we were not yet ready for a child of our own, but there was a unique quality to this precocious five-year-old, and he and T'Aria formed a strong connection almost instantly.

"Not wanting to take advantage of our positions, we proceeded through the proper channels in our effort to adopt Saamlan. The process was almost complete; in fact, we were scheduled to take him home with us in two days, when T'Aria, who was returning from visiting her parents in the neighboring city of Shi'Muhr, experienced a catastrophic mechanical failure, the flitter she was flying crashing in a remote area of the desert.

"She was not killed outright, and I and healers were en route to her, our bond serving to lead us unerringly to her location, but she succumbed to her injuries twelve point three minutes before we reached her." Stilek stopped, his voice faltering, and Spock looked away, ashamed to bear witness to such naked suffering.

After a few moments Stilek continued softly, eyes on his hands folded into his lap. "Not only did I lose my bondmate that day, and Saamlan his future mother, but her katra departed mere minutes before we arrived, which would have made any attempt at resuscitation futile. Without her spirit to inhabit it, her body would simply have been an empty receptacle, devoid of conscious thought or awareness of who she once was. She was lost to me, in every sense of the word."

Against his better judgment, Spock reached out and laid a tentative hand on Stilek's shoulder, the other's grief almost overwhelming him the instant contact was made. The cobalt eyes lifted to his, and although no words were spoken between them, Spock knew his instinct had been correct.

Stilek grasped Spock's forearm, completing the mental circuit, and instantly Spock found himself awash in the other's deep sorrow and pain. Underneath these roiling emotions he sensed the other's gratitude and genuine thanks for the sentiments expressed to him, but was shocked to discover no hint of remorse or shame for the emotions Stilek had allowed to bleed through to Spock's consciousness.

"All of us have feelings, Spock. Do not allow others to make you believe that due to your hybrid makeup you are the only one on the planet who feels."

Spock had no reply, dropping his hand from Stilek's shoulder, concerned about that which he knew he must be transmitting through the brief physical contact with the other.

"I sense astonishment that the feelings are still so strong, despite the fact that my wife was killed two point seven three years ago." A simple statement of fact.

"It is not my place to judge," Spock whispered quietly, eyes averted.

"And I detected no censure from you, Spock. Even though you continue to out-perform those of us of pure blood, you still do not think like one of us."

Spock stiffened at that, and Stilek worked to clarify his words. "This is not meant as an insult, but is to your credit. Your human half serves to temper the severity of your Vulcan half. Would that others were not so narrow-minded that they cannot see the benefit in this."

Uncomfortable with how things were progressing, Spock steered the conversation back to a more neutral course.

"What became of the child? You are here, so logically you could not have adopted him."

"You must understand. I had already lost two children and a bondmate with whom I was perfectly matched. Were I to have adopted Saamlan, and then lost him as well, I did not believe I would be able to survive the loss. In addition, it would have meant finding another bondmate to ensure that I survived my next Pon Farr, for if I had taken that path, I would have been responsible for his life.

"As much as I wished to make that child my son, it was a step I was unable to take. My bond to T'Aria represented the epitome of a Vulcan marriage, and I did not wish to find someone else, and inadvertently find myself comparing her to my dead wife. It would have been unfair of me to place another in this situation, and to me it seemed I would be turning my back on T'Aria's memory.

"Nor was the option of enduring Pon Farr in the arms of a surrogate, without the mitigating presence of the marriage bond, appealing."

"And so you are here, with the goal of attaining Kolinahr and eliminating the need to replace your wife," Spock supplied.

"Yes." Stilek hung his head. "As for Saamlan, I was able to place him with T'Aria's sister. She and her husband already had two daughters, so he became the son they never had. As with T'Aria, he developed a parental bond to her sister almost immediately, and this represented the most logical choice for me. If I came to Gol and was successful, he was still a member of the family and I would be able to continue a relationship with him, in the capacity of uncle as opposed to father.

"If I were not successful, then I would know that I had provided a stable, nurturing home for him, and ultimately, that is what T'Aria would have wanted of me."

"A most wise and logical choice; one which puts everyone's needs above your own." Spock regarded him with a newfound respect. "This explains much, and I am honored that you chose to share it with me."

"Now perhaps you comprehend fully my sincere disappointment at my initial reaction to you."

"I do not understand."

"I was a man who prided myself on my ability to look past that which was wholly Vulcan, and saw the worth in these children of mixed heritage. I saw the best in them, but was unable to see the best in you. Does being of Vulcanoid stock make these children somehow better than other hybrids? This was the object of my meditation during the latter half of Pon T'Khalivar. Until I met you, I was content to believe in the myth of Vulcan superiority. T'Aria would have been most displeased with me."

"Therein lays the gift of intelligence. Through it we constantly have the ability to grow and evolve. It is my belief that T'Aria would be quite pleased with the growth you have exhibited," Spock assured him.

"And now you fully understand why I chose to pursue Kolinahr. I felt the time had come for me to share my reasoning with one who can appreciate my situation."

"I am afraid you are in error, Stilek. I am not here in hopes of surviving Pon Farr without a bondmate."

"I am not referring to Pon Farr. It has been said that James Kirk was t'hy'la to you. If this is fact, then that bond will have to be dissolved in order to attain Kolinahr. The mental closeness shared by two who are t'hy'la is almost as powerful as the bond which I had with T'Aria. I do not know your reasoning behind this choice, nor do I expect you to enlighten me. Suffice it to say that I have firsthand knowledge of how difficult losing this type of connection to another can be, and I wish to offer whatever support I am able as you pursue this difficult undertaking."

Now it was Spock's turn to hang his head. "It was – is – necessary, and the only way to ensure the safety of those around us," he supplied quietly.

"In what way, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

Spock hesitated for an instant. In Stilek's case, the closeness he shared with T'Aria had not cost someone their life. Would Stilek think less of him once he knew the truth?

"You are correct. Ours was an unusually close link, fostered by our chosen profession, and our daily proximity to one another. I am unsure when it occurred, but there came a time when I began to value Kirk's life above all others. In several instances I put the ship and the lives of her crew in danger to ensure my captain's continued survival." He felt his cheeks burn, despite the occasional shiver that still coursed through him.

"All have heard of the _Enterprise's_ safe return to Earth after the completion of her mission. It would seem you took a calculated risk which not only preserved your t'hy'la's life, but did not adversely affect the ship or her crew. Again representing a true fusion of both sides of your psyche," Stilek stated with conviction.

"That is an accurate depiction of events, until the last incident, the one that caused me to come here." Spock dropped his eyes.

"Spock, we have been at Gol together for a year now, and have had a more 'personal' rapport in the last six months. During all that time, I have never seen any indication that you would willfully allow another to come to harm, regardless of the situation or circumstances." Stilek was fairly radiating his support.

"Be that as it may, during this last instance, it came down to a choice between my captain's life and that of another crewman. Despite his orders to the contrary, I chose to save Kirk instead." Spock closed his eyes against the images that statement evoked.

"Spock, within all of us there are certain inherent traits and standards of conduct which govern our behavior. If one commits murder, then the ability to do so was an integral part of our being. If that ability does not dwell within us, then we can no more act on that impulse than fly unaided. I am not talking about killing in the line of duty, or to preserve one's own life, but as a manifestation of one's indifference to the life of another. I do not believe you possess this quality. Surely there must have been extenuating circumstances of some kind?" Stilek prompted.

"Both men were injured, and I was only able to rescue one at a time."

"And given that choice, which man had the better chance at survival?" Stilek asked gently.

"Lieutenant DeSalle's injuries were so severe that even had I succeeded in removing him from the danger, it is doubtful if he would have survived until help arrived." Barely above a whisper.

"And yet your captain obviously did survive, did he not?"

Spock nodded his head in affirmation, too afraid his voice would betray the depth of emotions brought forth by this conversation.

"You see? You blame your human half for saving him, when it was the logical choice, and ultimately the correct one. Had you listened strictly to your Vulcan side, following orders as expected, both would have perished." Stilek paused, immersed in thought. "But even though it led you to the right decision, your human half is at fault here, for it is preventing you from seeing that this was your only option, keeping you from recognizing the rightness of this decision, and it is responsible for the guilt that drove you here. Perhaps you do need to learn to control this aspect of your personality, but not because it represents a danger to others, but only a danger to yourself."

Spock's head snapped up at that. Those ideas were remarkably similar to those held by one James T. Kirk. It had been easier to reject such thoughts when presented by a human, easier to blame emotions and feelings of friendship for the fire behind such a sentiment. But when spoken by a Vulcan, who had admittedly dismissed Spock at first glance due to his human side, their significance was unmistakable. Spock shook his head in disbelief. No one before, with the exception of Jim, had been able to grasp fully the unique being that was Spock. He looked away, knowing his inner turmoil, his uncertainty, the indecision Stilek's words had brought forth in him was clearly on display.

Sensing Spock's discomfort, Stilek rose silently to his feet. "I ask forgiveness. It was not my intention to make things more difficult for you. I shall take my leave of you now." A hand on the doorknob, he turned once more to face Spock. "Meditate carefully on all we have discussed here. You may find that your very life depends on it." And with that he was gone, closing the door noiselessly behind him.

oooOOOooo

Not surprisingly, his evening meditation did center around Stilek's words. Despite the fact that they were from two different worlds, he marveled at the similarities between his Vulcan friend and his former captain, at least with regard to Spock.

Both expressed a desire for him to find a way to make the warring sides of his personality coexist peacefully rather than destroying one side in favor of the other, and each had talked about seeing the best of both worlds in him. Was it possible that he was the one who was unable to see things clearly? He thought carefully about the behavior other Vulcans around him had exhibited over the years.

He had seen the gleam of satisfaction in T'Pring's eyes as her plan came to fruition, had felt Stonn's anger and outrage at not being selected as T'Pring's champion, and had been buffeted by T'Pau's contempt as he begged for Jim's life.

Throughout his childhood his father had told him others would expect more from him, simply because of who and what he was. And Spock had always worked to live up to those expectations. Perhaps Stilek was right, and due to his human half he placed unnecessary demands on himself to be more Vulcan than the average Vulcan.

Even Stilek, who possessed consummate control, had fairly glowed when speaking of T'Aria. In all but actual words he had expressed his deep love for and commitment to his deceased bondmate. And there was no mistaking the softening of his father's demeanor whenever his mother was near.

Could it be that even being raised on Vulcan, born of a Vulcan father, that he was the one who somehow did not fully grasp what it meant to _be_ a Vulcan? He had accused his mother of not fully comprehending this concept several years ago. Was it possible that he was guilty of this as well?

And was this lack of true understanding what had ultimately led him to believe that becoming Kolinahru was his only option? Had he, in fact, made the right choice?

_I do this not for me, but for Jim. I do not wish to place him in a position where he will have to answer for my actions. _

But was that the whole truth, or had it really been fear, or more precisely, a lack of courage, that had driven him here? These were the thoughts that lulled him into a restless sleep when meditation offered no concrete answers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Kirk – two years

He found himself wandering the docks at Fisherman's Wharf, the chill night air helping to burn off some of the despair he was feeling.

He hadn't seen the fight coming, and had been totally shocked by Lori's reaction. They were supposed to attend a 'fleet gala tonight, a shameful play for publicity, serving to further Starfleet's image in the eyes of the general public, and he had begged off at the last minute, citing a splitting headache as the reason.

Lori had given him that look that said she didn't believe him in the least, and was instantly suspicious. "Jim, is something wrong?"

"Nothing a good, strong painkiller and a few hours of sack time wouldn't cure."

"Then I'll stay home, too. I can massage your temples. You always say it works miracles on your migraines. And if that doesn't help we can always try something else…" Whispered in a husky voice, followed by a sultry, seductive kiss to the sensitive spot on his neck just below his ear.

He'd instantly gone on the defensive. How could he admit to her that once again, thoughts of Spock were coming between them? It had been over two years now, and still no word from his former First. When he hadn't heard from Spock in the first few weeks after he'd sent the tape, he'd resigned himself to the fact that the Vulcan was going through with his plan to complete Kolinahr, but he'd fully expected Spock get in touch with him by now. He couldn't believe that given all that had been between them their unique friendship was now over.

He'd thought about contacting Amanda again, to see if Spock had completed his training, but couldn't bring himself to do it for several reasons: If Spock had chosen to cut all ties with his family, he didn't want to stir up unpleasant memories for his friend's mother – he'd done quite enough already; he really didn't want to cause her any more pain.

And yet, if Spock had been in touch with his parents, then it would only confirm his worst fear: The Vulcan had chosen to move on with his life without Jim in it. He knew it was childish and totally absurd – what his friend would call 'most illogical,' followed by a rapidly ascending eyebrow meant to gently chastise aberrant behavior – but somehow if he didn't find out for sure, he could continue to hold out hope that there was still a chance at reconciliation between them.

He knew he couldn't share this with Lori – she simply wouldn't understand.

"You don't have to do that," he assured her, grasping her shoulders and holding her at arm's length. "The way my head's pounding, I really don't feel up to mingling tonight, but the there's no reason you can't go. One of us needs to be there, and you look stunning." Drawing her close, he planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

She pulled away from him, taking a few steps across the room. "Look, it's bad enough you don't want to go with me, but you don't have to lie about it." He could see the hurt in the set of her shoulders, the furrowing of her brow.

"What do you want from me, Lori?" He could feel the irritation rising as he struggled to keep his tone light, non-confrontational.

"How about the truth? That's all I ask." She paused for a moment, her eyes locking with his. "You know, there was a time when you trusted me, when we could tell each other anything."

Not really. He'd never been comfortable talking to her about Spock ever since that night when he'd first felt the profound change in the link. His unconventional connection to the stoic Vulcan was something he didn't fully understand himself, and he'd never been at ease discussing it with anyone, even McCoy. "There's nothing to talk about." Short. Clipped. Brusque.

"That seems to be par for the course of late. We don't talk, we don't go out, we don't do things together as a couple, hell, it's rare for us to even eat a meal together anymore. It's as if we're living separate lives." She approached him again, winding her arms around his neck, her gaze awash with concern. "I'm just trying to help; please let me in, Jim."

He reached up to brush her cheek with gentle fingers. "And I appreciate that, but this is something I have to work through on my own. Just give me some time, okay? I promise, things will get better."

Her face fell at that. "Sure. No problem. Take all the time you need." Stilted. Biting. Bitter. "Just know this: I can't wait forever." Distress radiating from her.

"You won't have to." He leaned forward to kiss her but she wriggled from his grasp, snatched her clutch off the chair and headed for the door.

"I'm sure I'll be very late. Don't wait up," she had tossed abruptly over her shoulder, disappearing into the corridor.

He settled himself on a bench facing the harbor. The Golden Gate Bridge shone conspicuously in the distance, silhouetted against the backdrop of the night sky. He turned his face upward, looking to the few stars that were visible for solace. Invariably, his eyes found Eridani, causing his chest to knot with pain once again. God, he needed to get a grip on himself. He was a grown man, after all. So, maybe Spock had chosen to end their friendship. It most assuredly didn't mean his life was over. He'd lost friends, quite a few, in fact, over the years. Why was he taking this loss so personally?

It certainly didn't help any knowing that the link between them was all but gone. It had progressed from the impenetrable barrier of a few years ago to a vast emptiness, as if he were looking down a bottomless, pitch black well, watching that tiny opening recede farther and farther from him each day. It had almost reached the point where he could no longer see the minute speck of light that had once been the portal to Spock's mind.

Add to that the fact that while he had tried numerous times over the past year to convince Carol he was done with space for good, it hadn't changed her mind with regard to their son – she was still unwilling to tell David the truth about his father, and was bound and determined to keep Kirk out of his life on any level. This only served to reopen old wounds that had scabbed over long ago, the healing process much slower and more painful this time around.

_Just a few more relationships to throw on the ever-growing heap of my failures, _he thought glumly. And if he weren't careful, he'd soon be adding Lori to that list as well.

He was shocked to discover that he didn't find that thought particularly upsetting. He'd worked so hard to convince himself that he was in love with her that he'd even believed it for a time. But now, he felt nothing, just an overall sense of emptiness. _Maybe I'm just not meant to be happy, or to have a meaningful relationship with anyone. I told Spock once he was better off without love; it seems that I am, too._ Rising to his feet he turned up his collar to ward off the cool ocean breeze and stuffing his hands into his pockets, set a course through the darkened streets for home.

oooOOOooo

He felt her come to bed, slipping cautiously under the sheets, careful not to touch him. She rolled on her side, her back to him. He toyed with the idea of spooning up next to her, apologizing for earlier and trying to make things right between them, but realized that wouldn't do anything to ease the ache in his heart, so he chose to do nothing, closing his eyes and feigning sleep.

oooOOOooo

When he awoke the next morning her side of the bed was already empty. As he headed for the kitchen, he realized it wasn't just the bed, but the apartment that was empty. Not sure how to take that, or even how he felt about it, he poured himself a cup of coffee and was at the dining room table, reading the local news when the door swished open. Lori entered in a rush, sweaty, dressed in a jogging suit.

He glanced up at her, trying to gauge her mood. He opened his mouth to speak to her but she was already on the move, heading for the kitchen without a backward glance. Turning off the hand-held device, he set it on the table and got to his feet, following a few steps behind her. When he entered, she was at the sink, her back to him, sipping at a glass of water. "Lori." Softly. Contrite. "I'm sorry about last night." Silence. "And I didn't know what to make of this morning. You could've left me a note."

She whirled to face him. "Why? Were you worried?" Her look went right through him.

He ignored it. "I'm glad you're okay." He moved to embrace her but she stepped away from him.

"Worried about what? About me, or about us?" She pinned him with a hollow stare. "As you can see, _I'm_ fine, but _we're_ not. You have to decide what _you_ want. I can't make this work, or fix it, all by myself. If it's important to you, then I'll know by what you do." A measured pause. "And if it's not, well I'll know that, too. The ball's in your court now." And with that she disappeared down the hall, heading for the shower.

McCoy – two years

He was poring over a medical journal. It seemed the prototype of the machine and computer programs he and Spock had developed was in the production stage, and the medical community was searching for volunteers to participate in a wide-scale study to assess the machine's effectiveness and accuracy. Preliminary results had been promising; there was a seventy-two percent success rate with the initial group of test subjects, but with more time and personalized training it was believed the numbers could approach ninety-seven percent.

McCoy took considerable satisfaction in this. As a medical man, he had been supremely frustrated by Chris Pike's predicament, especially since he had been placed under McCoy's care after Spock had smuggled him aboard and stolen the ship. Thoroughly confused and confounded by the situation, he had literally spent hours, despite 'Jim's' orders to the contrary, trying to question Pike about Spock's possible motives. He had gotten nowhere, leaving both men distressed and upset.

If he had been able to get the facts from Spock's former captain, he could have prevented the trial that almost led to Spock's court martial and had strained the relationship between his captain and XO for months afterward. Jim had stubbornly refused to believe Spock could be disloyal to him, and was genuinely hurt when he had learned the truth, not so much because he felt Spock had been dishonest with him, but because to his mind, the Vulcan hadn't trusted him enough to take Kirk into his confidence.

He realized he had read this particular paragraph for the third time in the last ten minutes and still had no idea what it said. Turning off the portable reader, he tossed it onto the table before him. It had been several months since he'd been assailed by thoughts of Jim and Spock. He came to realize the futility of dwelling on the past. His mind continued to wander.

It was late; almost one in the morning, and Mark and Joanna still weren't back from their evening out. The two of them had grown quite close over the last year, with McCoy's blessing. But despite the joy Joanna and Mark had brought to his life, he was starting to get restless, and the journal article he'd been reading only served to fan the flames of that fire. Not necessarily with a wanderlust to travel the stars, but a desire to accomplish more in the field of medicine than he was doing now. His exposure to alien civilizations and battlefield medicine had given him the opportunity to see, learn and do things he'd never experience on Earth.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy his current situation, but like he had told Jim Kirk a few years ago, some men just needed more to feel that they were contributing to, rather than just walking through, life.

_I suppose I could travel a bit. Mark can hold down the fort here, and Lord knows there are still some poor, remote areas of this planet that need medical assistance. I wouldn't be performing open heart surgery on a Vulcan, but at least I'd be able to help my fellow man. It wouldn't have to be a full-time thing – I could volunteer for a few months and then come back. I've really enjoyed reconnecting with Joanna and I don't want to jeopardize that relationship…_

He was brought back to reality by the sound of the front door opening, soft, murmured voices accompanying the muffled footsteps as they moved quietly down the hall.

"Dad? What are you still doing up?" Joanna and Mark had poked their heads into his study.

When he'd first heard the door he'd grabbed the reader and now pretended to look up, startled, from its screen. "I was just catching up on some reading and got so engrossed in the article I lost track of the time," he said convincingly, even to his own ears. "They're putting the device Spock and I developed into production. So far, the findings have been very promising."

"That's great, dad. And see, you made it happen without Mr. Spock. I knew you could."

"Well, I have Mark to thank for that. Without his help, I'd never have been able to pitch the idea at all."

"Yeah, he's a pretty great guy," she agreed, looping an arm around Mark's waist and giving him a quick squeeze.

"How late is it, anyway?" he asked evenly.

Joanna shot him a look of mock disbelief. "Like you really don't know." Hands on her hips, a touch of skepticism was creeping into the light, teasing tone. "Sure you weren't waiting up for me?"

"Of course not. You're a grown woman, and besides, I trust Mark implicitly. He may be a damn Yankee, but living in the South for the past five years has done a lot to improve his manners." He winked conspiratorially at Mark. "Now, aside from that thick Boston accent you'd never know he was other than a true Southern gentleman."

As if choreographed, Mark responded with a low, courteous bow, receiving a playful elbow in the ribs from Joanna for his trouble.

"Alright, if you two are done horsing around, and you've finally resigned as head of the Mark Kinney Admiration Society, we have something to tell you." She and Mark exchanged a quick, sappy grin.

"Shoot, I'm all ears," McCoy announced, depositing the reader on the table once again and turning his full attention to the two youngsters.

"Oh daddy, Mark and I got engaged tonight." Unable to contain her exuberance any longer, Joanna raced for her father, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

He returned the hug. "That's great, honey, I'm very happy for you two. And now, let me see the ring." She flashed the bright gemstone, casting a beaming look over her shoulder at Mark.

"That's a real beauty." Again he lifted mischievous eyes to Mark's. "And it looks to be worth a king's ransom. I suspected I was paying him too much."

Once more a lighthearted smack, this time to McCoy's shoulder. "Dad, will you stop? This is serious, and the happiest day of my life."

"Well, in that case, allow me to shake the hand of the man responsible," he intoned with total sincerity, climbing to his feet.

Mark met him halfway, grasping the outstretched hand and pulling McCoy into a rough hug. "You were right, Pops. Seems I didn't have a thing to be nervous about."

Joanna looked from one to the other. As comprehension dawned, a contented grin spread slowly across her face.

McCoy's eyes twinkled. "Hell, I told you – if she refused you I'd marry you in a heartbeat. You're a great catch – young, handsome, an up-and-coming mover and shaker in your profession, and your accent is to die for." Both he and Mark were having a hard time keeping a straight face, snickering under their breath and glancing at Joanna out of the corner of their eyes.

"Oh will you two stop it already?" She moved to stand between them, taking each by the hand. "I should have known Mark would have talked it over with you first. A proper Southern gentleman does ask for the father's permission first. And besides," she continued, "You two have been almost as inseparable as we have for the past year," she commented, favoring McCoy with an impish look. "The son you never had."

"And the only person I know who could put up with the daughter I _did _have," he shot back, grinning widely.

"Yeah, it's a miserable job, but someone's got to do it," Mark responded, having eyes only for Joanna now, the teasing, light mood forgotten, his look serious, showing the depth of his feelings for her.

Joanna squeezed both their hands. "Here I am, surrounded by the two men I love most in the world. It doesn't get much better than this."

oooOOOooo

They married four months later in a small, private ceremony for close family members, coinciding with McCoy's return from his time as a medical advisor to the Maori tribe of New Zealand only a few days before.

He'd been planning this trip for months and Joanna and Mark insisted he go, promising their nuptials could wait a few months until he got back. The trip had helped to lift his spirits somewhat. It wasn't the cutting edge, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants medicine he'd practiced as CMO of a starship, but it did give him a sense of purpose, and made him feel he was contributing to improving the overall condition of the human race.

The nuptials were held in the small Baptist church McCoy had attended with his parents as a young boy. McCoy's elderly aunt had been there, as had his cousins and their spouses. Mark's little brother had served as the best man, the only immediate family member the young doctor had left on Earth. His older sister was stationed on a civilian scientific research vessel, studying the various nebulas and quasars found within Federation space, and his parents had relocated to an agricultural colony several years ago, once their two sons were grown and on their own.

They were heartbroken that they wouldn't be able to return in time for the ceremony – it was harvesting season on Delta Solari VI, and they needed everyone pitching in to assure they got all the crops in before the weather turned. Distressed that they'd never had a chance yet to meet Joanna face-to-face, they promised to visit as soon as their obligations to the colony were fulfilled, patently refusing the offer by the bride and groom-to-be to delay the wedding until they could attend. To ensure that his parents wouldn't have to miss the wedding altogether, they'd set up a video feed so Mark's mother and father could at least watch their oldest son embark on his new life as a married man.

Sadly, Nick and Jocelyn sent their regrets at not being able to attend, citing a business trip as the reason. Joanna bore that news stoically, and while McCoy's heart ached for her, a small part of him was relieved – it would certainly make for less tension while the family was all together.

It had been all McCoy could do to keep it together as he walked Joanna down the aisle. Two years ago, things had been so different between them, and he was thankful that fate had given him a chance to have his daughter in his life once again.

He had convinced them to live here, with him. The house was way too big for just one person, and he simply wasn't ready to be alone yet, now that Joanna had come back into his life.

Despite his gruff and sometimes curmudgeonly manner he'd always been a people person, and was shocked to find when he'd first returned from space just how much he missed that crowded shipboard life. Not so much the traveling through the galaxy, but the fact that at any given time, day or night, there were throngs of personnel in the corridors, the mess hall, or the rec rooms. If you didn't want to be alone, you never had to be on the _Enterprise._

As he lay in bed the night of the wedding, Mark and Joanna off on their honeymoon (they'd decided to surprise Mark's parents and had booked passage to that distant, agricultural world where they'd be spending two weeks with his family), he reflected on the course his life had taken.

He'd made amends with his daughter, and he couldn't have picked a better man for her than Mark. They were a perfect fit, unlike he and Jocelyn, and he had no doubts this union would endure. At least now, if he were to find that life were to again take him in a new direction, he would be comfortable with that choice, knowing Mark was now there to watch over his daughter.

Although no longer at the leading edge in his field, he was practicing medicine the way he saw fit, and thanks to Mark was now able to travel and bring his skills to those in need around the world. He allowed a sigh of satisfaction to escape his lips. Yes, to his mind, his new life was just about perfect, only overshadowed by the loss of his friends.

He allowed himself to think briefly of Jim and Spock, something he'd been doing less and less over the past few months. He hadn't seen either man in over two years, during which time the pain of his separation from them had lessened considerably. He still cared deeply for each of them, but had made peace with the fact that there was nothing he could do about the choices they'd made.

_I miss you two like hell, but it seems we all had to do what we felt was best for each of us. I just hope things are working out as well for the two of you as they have for me…_

Spock – two years

Despite his best efforts, he was unable to completely block out the screams, either in his mind or the ones that assaulted his sensitive ears as they echoed unchecked throughout the stone fortress. He was in his quarters, kneeling before his meditation statue, trying desperately to remain emotionally detached from events going on around him at the moment.

Stilek had been increasingly agitated during the last two weeks, and had entered the final stages of Pon Farr two days ago. There were females who lived at Gol whose sole purpose here was to offer aid to unbonded acolytes who had not yet mastered the control necessary to survive the ordeal, but Stilek had studiously rebuffed all attempts to assist him.

Knowing it was illogical and against his friend's wishes but somehow unable to stop himself, Spock had headed for T'Sai's office earlier with the intention of pleading for Stilek's life. While he was en route his resolve had faltered, logic taking over.

He knew that when Stilek arrived at Gol three years ago he had told the masters then in no uncertain terms that if he failed to attain Kolinahr before Pon Farr took him, no heroic efforts were to be made to save his life.

As he entered her office, T'Sai seemed to sense the conflict within him, offering a logical explanation to an undeniably regrettable situation. "This was his choice, and as such we must honor it, my child. There are those among our people who cannot fathom being joined to another if their original bondmate has perished. Stilek took the steps necessary to protect himself and those around him by coming here; sadly he was unable to complete the total mastery of his emotions in the time available to him. As there were no children resulting from his marriage, he is responsible for no life save his own. We are bound to abide by his decision."

"Is there not something we can do to ease his passing, Master?" Spock now had an inkling of what Jim Kirk must have felt when he had been forced to think about his First possibly suffering the same fate.

"As thee knows, there are no drugs which will diminish the effects, but as the time of his death approaches, I and the other masters will reach out to his mind, offering comfort and a measure of security, of peace during his final hours. He shall not be alone when the time comes."

She had watched him closely, and Spock sensed approval as opposed to disappointment. In that instant he realized that while Kolinahr advocated banishing all emotion, it did not necessarily contradict the Vulcan notion of compassion for all living things. He came to understand that Kolinahr was not, in fact, a true eradication of emotion as many believed, but a way to channel those feelings that was unmatched by any other Vulcan mind discipline. Where even Vulcans might be unsure of their logic and emotions where close family members were concerned, Kolinahru could see the inescapable logic of any given situation, and were able to act on it decisively, correctly, without the taint of passion coloring their judgment.

"Do not grieve for him, child. During his time here he conducted himself admirably, and his choice will cause harm to no one but himself. He lived his life honorably, and within the boundaries set by our people and culture. Celebrate his life, and how his existence impacted thy own. Thee are close to achieving the goal thee has set for thyself, Spock. A master of Kolinahr would be able to do this without allowing emotion to enter into the equation. I have great faith that thee can do this as well."

Unfortunately, this conversation had not provided Spock with the consolation he sought. Knowing none could see him in the privacy of his quarters he collapsed onto his bed, eyes squeezed tightly shut, clamping his hands over his ears, trying futilely to shut out the screams that punctuated the hallowed corridors of the ancient monastery.

oooOOOooo

All lessons had been canceled during the final day of Stilek's ordeal. Between the constant mental and aural barrage, none, including the masters themselves, were able to concentrate. All were asked to remain in their quarters engaged in personal meditation and reflection, and, if able, to send soothing and comforting thoughts to Stilek as he slipped into the final phase of Pon Farr. During his last hours, the screams had stopped, the sounds now strangled, guttural as they were ripped from his parched, dry throat.

Spock was acutely aware of the instant of his friend's death as he noted with nothing short of dismay the passing of Stilek's katra into oblivion. It was entirely too risky for anyone to meld with him in his current state, so Stilek had come to understand fully that the decision to die during Pon Farr would ensure the loss of his katra, just as T'Aria's had been lost at the time of her accident. _At least he is finally at peace, and surely their katras have been reunited at last, _the rational side of Spock's brain had tried to offer as justification for what had happened.

Wresting himself from the floor of his room, he made his way to T'Sai's office.

"It is finished," she informed him as he entered. "He has departed his earthly life. Now all that remains is the final preparation of his body, so that it may join his departed spirit."

"I shall do it, Master," he informed her. It was not a request. This was the first time in his two years here that that side of him that had been second in command of the _Enterprise_ had asserted itself.

Much to his surprise, T'Sai did not offer any resistance to his proposal. "It is fitting, Spock. Thee may proceed."

Offering a respectful bow, tinged with gratitude, to she who had become his teacher and staunchest supporter during his tenure here, he turned on his heel, making his way to his friend's quarters.

oooOOOooo

He stood outside the sealed door to his friend's room. Straightening his shoulders, he began undoing the locks that had kept Stilek confined during the time when the risk to those around him was at its greatest.

Cautiously opening the door wide, he retrieved the washbasin and scented oil he had set on the stone floor, stepping gingerly over the remnants of his friend's asenoi, smashed to pieces during the height of Stilek's mania.

His friend's lifeless body was crumpled in a far corner. Drawing a steadying breath, he softly closed the door behind him, blocking the stares of the other acolytes who had opened their doors and were peeking out. He knew they meant well; unlike humans who were often driven by an incomprehensible desire to openly gawk at tragedy, he knew this was meant as a sign of respect to their fallen comrade, and yet he still found himself unable to allow others to see Stilek in this state. This would be the last thing he could do for his friend.

Kneeling beside the still form, he cautiously, ever-so-gently, gathered the body into his arms, depositing it reverently onto the thin mattress. The eyes were not closed, yet the spark of life had long since departed, and he was suddenly reminded of DeSalle's eyes as they had appeared in his dream almost two years ago.

Quickly he banished that thought. To dwell on those similarities was counterproductive and not logical. Both men were dead, and nothing could be done to remedy that fact. Kaiidth.

Climbing to his feet he crossed the small space, retrieving two clean robes from the tiny niche carved into the stone wall that served as storage for Stilek's few belongings.

Returning to his friend's side, he gently placed one folded robe under Stilek's head. As he began removing Stilek's sweat-soaked garment, the scent of his panic, his madness, the anguish he had experienced during his final hours, permeated the room.

Not allowing this to influence him, Spock began gently washing the body, the grime, sweat and cloying smell of fear and unimaginable suffering gradually dissipating as he wrung out the washrag over and over in the fragrant water.

Once cleansed, he rubbed the body with the aromatic oil before dressing him in the second clean robe. Now only one thing remained. Drawing the hood up over Stilek's head, he prepared to sew closed the opening around the face.

As he glanced down, placing the first stitch into the soft, thick fabric, it wasn't Stilek's face he saw, but that of Jim Kirk, gray, lifeless, as it had appeared on the sands of his family's place of Koon-ut-kal-if-fee, held securely in the strap of the ahn-woon twisted tightly about his neck.

He closed his eyes against that image. He had seen it often, in many forms, in many settings over the years, lurking in the darkest recesses of his most terrifying nightmares. Somehow, it always left him wracked with guilt, time and distance unable to make it any easier to bear. If McCoy had not been with them that day…

Resolutely he opened his eyes, watching Stilek's face disappear bit by bit with each pass of the needle.

oooOOOooo

As expected, his meditation of this evening centered on friendship. The loss of Stilek impacted him more than he cared to admit at this stage in his training, but the finality of death brought him a sense of closure.

The Vulcan view on death was different from that of humans. If the person in question had lived a fulfilling and rewarding life, Vulcans were able to celebrate that life, their grief assuaged by honoring the individual's accomplishments, rather than mourning the loss.

And as such, there had been more of a feel of commemorating a life well lived, rather than melancholy over an untimely death as the acolytes and masters gathered around Stilek's funeral pyre. T'Sai had spoken the ritual words, but Spock had been given the task typically reserved for close family members, speaking on behalf of the deceased, recounting events from his life worthy of remembrance.

And while Stilek had died young, at least with regard to Vulcan standards, Spock was able to convince himself that his friend's life had not been wasted. Before coming to Gol he had been a productive member of Vulcan society, he and T'Aria doing much to spotlight the plight of those Romulan-Vulcan orphans who were unable to speak for themselves. And while his friend's marriage had been fruitless in terms of offspring, the mental connection he had shared with his wife had been the true essence of a Vulcan marriage bond. Recognizing this, Stilek had refused to be bound to another, doing all within his power to assure the safety of those around him when he entered Pon Farr.

Spock could not help but believe that the unexpected fellowship the two had enjoyed over the last eighteen months had somehow made their time at Gol more meaningful for each of them, and had helped Stilek accept and embrace all the decisions he had made with respect to this issue.

In accordance with Vulcan tradition, the others left long before the funerary flame had burnt out, only family permitted to remain until the end. As per Stilek's request, made to T'Sai several months ago, it once again fell to Spock to fulfill that obligation. As he watched the dry desert wind carry away the last of Stilek's ashes, he decided that friendships were extremely complex relationships too fraught with difficulty, requiring too much personal investment, and that he would never again allow himself to engage in a connection to another of this nature.

At least with Stilek, their friendship been brought to a close due to the rigors of Vulcan biology. Spock knew his fate. But he was unsure of what had become of the other two men he had recently called friend. Had Jim carried out his plan to wrangle another deep-space command from the Starfleet decision-makers, and if so, was he on his own or had McCoy gone with him? Were both men safe? Did they still live? He experienced a twinge of guilt for having left them, abandoning them to an uncertain future.

But even worse, Spock knew that, as had happened with Stilek, Jim's katra would be forever lost to him once he became Kolinahru. Worse still, since Jim was not Vulcan, Spock would be unaware of the moment his soul departed without the bond of t'hy'la to alert him. He found that thought surprisingly painful, despite all that had transpired in the two years since their last interaction. He was tempted to open the link, if only for an instant, to see if Kirk's spirit still dwelt at the other end.

Immediately, logic prevailed. _To do so would only confuse Jim as to the current nature of things between us, and would not alter the situation. Either he still lives or he does not. Regardless of the answer, it will not impact my decision. I am committed fully to this endeavor; despite the urgings from Stilek, my mother, or Jim Kirk himself, I have reached the conclusion that my human half must be suppressed once and for all for me to attain personal satisfaction. The portion of my life in which I was First Officer of the _Enterprise_ is complete, my friendships to McCoy and Jim over and done with. I shall not revisit it, or those friendships, again. My destiny, my purpose, is to become Kolinahru and assist others who are attempting to do so. For the first time in my life, the path to my future is firmly laid and clearly visible._


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter deals with the early portion of TMP. I have been relying on events as depicted in the novelization, but some recent comments made me realize that not everyone who is reading this story may be familiar with what's contained in the book, so in an effort to clarify things for those who haven't read it, I've included some things here that may be redundant to others of you. For that I apologize, but ask for some leniency – I'm just trying to get all of us on the same page here. :D

**Chapter 5**

Kirk – pre-TMP

He was back to being alone again; it seemed to be his lot in life. Lori had left him, and while the pain of losing Spock, McCoy, and his son yet again was never far from his mind, he had made the decision to finally move on with his life, realizing at last the futility of trying to live in a past that was no longer there. As had happened before, he'd lost everything; the only path left was the one leading forward.

The _Enterprise_ was already slated for Will Decker, who'd be taking her out in a few weeks as her new captain once her eighteen-month refit was complete, but she wasn't the only ship in town. He'd decided to do whatever it took to get back in space; there was nothing left to tie him to Earth now. Traveling the stars is where he'd been the happiest, and where it felt like he was making a difference. He'd wasted enough time wallowing in what was; it was now time to focus on what could be.

He needed time to regroup, to formulate a plan for his future, and then he'd confront Nogura. He'd decided to allow himself one small pleasure before embarking on this latest journey in his life.

Ever since he'd been a young boy, history – and particularly ancient history (his interest sparked at a very young age to uncover the story of the Roman emperor bearing his name) – had always held a certain fascination for him. In light of this he'd decided to take the trip of a lifetime to explore the Bibliotheca Alexandrina. The new facility, a restoration project of its ancient namesake, had been created early in the twenty-first century near the ruins of its predecessor. It marked an attempt by historians and archaeologists to return the site to its former glory and greatness.

Sadly, none of the earliest texts written by mankind had survived the fire which was believed to have destroyed the original building millennia ago, but academics were able to speculate as to what artifacts and scholarly works had been contained within its walls. Over the course of the last two hundred at fifty years most of the modern world's greatest works of history and literature had been added to those manuscripts from antiquity, making it a mecca for all those interested in the most significant historical events of the planet.

While en route to that intriguing and colorful destination, he couldn't keep his thoughts from straying to the last few months he and Lori had spent together.

After her initial anger had subsided, Lori had begged, teased, cajoled and even threatened during that tumultuous time, all in an effort to get him to share what was going on inside his head, to talk about what was happening to them, but it backfired, only causing him to withdraw further into himself, effectively shutting her out completely. To make matters worse, at the time he himself didn't fully understand what he was feeling, or why.

Finally she'd given him an ultimatum, and when he hadn't been able to respond in the way she wanted, she'd made it clear that, as far as she was concerned, their marriage was over. During the argument that ensued, she'd accidentally admitted that she'd begun the relationship at Nogura's urging. He'd wanted someone to keep an eye on Starfleet's youngest, most celebrated admiral. Who better than an attractive, intelligent woman who could give Kirk a run for his money? She'd divulged that at first it was a job, an assignment given to her by a superior, nothing more, but after a few months she couldn't help but fall in love with him. And for the first year or so, she'd believed he was happy as well – hell, maybe he had been; it had helped to ease the pain of losing his friends and his command – but nine months into their marriage he'd been overwhelmed by feelings of isolation and detachment, as if he were disconnected from his life and the world around him. Unable to account for this change in attitude, it only made the instances of brooding and his withdrawal from her more pronounced.

By then it was already too late. Lori admitted that she had come to understand that what for him had initially been a romance of convenience followed by a period of intense infatuation, not real love, had quickly soured, and she'd reached the conclusion that she wanted out. She couldn't renew their contract because she was tired of fighting the demons from his past and always coming up the loser. He was spiraling into depression, a downwards progression she had been unable to halt despite her best efforts.

She was done, spent, and just wanted to move on with her life. Or so she said. Maybe she'd never loved him at all, and Nogura had gotten all the inside information he needed. Not that it mattered. He couldn't say he was disappointed when she'd decided their marriage was over. Relief had been his overwhelming emotion at the time. She'd come along when he was at his lowest point; when he'd really needed someone, but looking back on it, he couldn't say that he'd truly loved her, or that she had, in fact, been in love with him, either.

But then again, was this just another example of how he locked himself away from everyone he cared about? Was he destined to never be happy? Had he really tried to make things work with Lori, or did fate intend for him to walk through life alone?

He was drawn back to the conversation marking the last day they had spent as a married couple.

"_What a fool I was to think that I was the one who could tame the great James T. Kirk; could get him to settle down and forget all about space or his friends. God, how could I have been so stupid, or so blind?" she had asked in a high-pitched, agitated voice, thrusting her hair savagely behind her ear._

"_Lori, please don't. It's not you, it's me. Any man would consider himself lucky to be with you," he had argued in all honesty._

_She had snorted derisively. "Yeah, any man but you. You know, maybe you're right. Maybe you don't know a good thing when it jumps up and bites you in the ass. You've got it so stuck in your head that it's your fault that McCoy and Spock left you, that maybe you don't know how to carry on a relationship without ultimately pushing away those people who care about you." She had wiped at her eyes, her look changing from one of anger to pity._

"_You know, I really feel sorry for you. You're so self-assured and confident in all areas of your life but this one. Maybe you are destined to be alone. I don't know and at this point I really don't care. All I know is I've had enough; I can't live like this anymore. And to think, I have old Heihachiro to thank for screwing my life up royally." She had stopped abruptly, her eyes becoming wide, fearful, almost apologetic as she realized her mistake._

_He had been utterly stunned and suddenly angry. When she had first been assigned to the Operations Office his intuition had told him something was amiss, but at the time he hadn't believed it. He knew her skills as a xeno-psychologist had allowed her to manipulate people expertly, but until this moment he had blindly refused to think that he fell into that category. Now she had inadvertently confirmed his suspicions. "So, the truth finally comes out. It was all an act, wasn't it? All a sham. Nogura put you up to this to keep tabs on me, didn't he?" She had hung her head in defeat. "I'm right, aren't I?"_

"_You make it sound like I didn't care about you at all." Much softer now, her gaze melting into a look of penitence._

"_Did you, or was it just another assignment? I always knew there was a side of you that could be cold, calculating, a real player, Lori but this is low, even for you. Is this show of grief, these tears, just part of that act?" Barely able to keep his anger in check._

"_How can you even ask me that? I think it was obvious what I felt. The real question is – what did you really feel for me? You've got some nerve making it seem like you were the only one who got played here. I said in the beginning I didn't want to be your rebound fling, but I'm sure now that's all I was to you – a way to get over the pain of losing your ship and your friends. Trouble is, almost three years post you still haven't gotten over it and probably never will." A pause, as she had carefully considered her next words. _

"_I love you, Jim – even though that wasn't part of the original plan I just couldn't help myself – and I can't watch you self-destruct any longer. You don't take joy in anything – me, your job, your career, nothing. I've tried, but nothing I do or nothing I say seems to be able to help you get beyond all this." A heavy sigh had escaped her lips. _

"_Maybe McCoy was right when he told you to stay in space. Seems to me it's the only place where you were ever truly happy. Love, in whatever form, doesn't seem to be enough for you. You, yourself said that both McCoy and Spock loved you like a brother. Pretty amazing – you were able to coax love out of an unfeeling, unemotional Vulcan, and yet even _that_ wasn't enough for you; you still managed to drive him away. If you were capable of that, then why should I think you wouldn't do the same to me?" She had shaken her head in disbelief._

_He had cringed at that._

"_And you're absolutely right – that's your problem, not mine. You know, you've got to put the past behind you before you can move on. Problem is, I don't see that happening anytime soon." The sorrow had been replaced by indifference as she began packing a small suitcase._

_Now it was his turn to be contrite. "Lori I'm sorry. I tried – really I did – but I think you're right. I always manage to push away those people I care about – and I did – do – care for you." He had started toward her with the idea of tugging her into an embrace, ready to promise that there was still hope, that they could still fix this, but her next words had stopped him cold._

"_Unfortunately, that's not enough for me." Clothing continued to plop steadily into the soft travel bag. "I think it's best if we don't renew our contract; best if I leave now before things really get ugly between us." Gone was the melancholy, wounded attitude; it had been replaced with hardened steel and cold flint. _

_Kirk had shuddered slightly as he realized she could turn it off and on like a faucet. Granted, he certainly had his problems with commitment, but so did she. This was definitely for the best, and it had occurred to him then that he suddenly felt a sense of liberation, of freedom, as if a stifling weight had been lifted off his chest and he could breathe once again. This is what had led to the indiscriminate feelings of angst and agitation for the past few months – he had felt trapped in a life he no longer wanted to lead – but now, with nothing left to tie him to this fragile blue ball orbiting unobtrusively around the commonplace star known as Sol, he began to contemplate the possibilities, his thoughts once again reaching for the comfort and security the cosmos had always provided him._

"_I'll send a car 'round in the morning to get the rest of my things." And with that she had walked out the door, and out of his life for good._

He felt the forward momentum of the tube stop, forcing his mind back to the present. He rose from his seat, gathering his luggage from the overhead compartment and heading for the exit.

oooOOOooo

So far, he'd been thoroughly enjoying his stay in Alexandria. He'd spent the entire first day in the main reading room of the modern library, poring over old and recent historic texts. Today he was in the artifact room of the neighboring museum, examining the contents of an ancient Egyptian queen's tomb on the viewer, when a strange tingling sensation began inside his head.

_Spock_? he called silently, halfway rising to his feet, thinking at first the link had spontaneously opened, but soon realizing it was his senceiver implant, mandatory paraphernalia for all 'fleet captains, firing to life as images began to take shape inside his head of Klingon K'tinga class cruisers being destroyed by a large, ominous cloud. The feeling produced by the device was disturbing and that, coupled with the disappointment he felt when he realized his link to Spock was still cold, dark, dead caused him to sigh slightly, closing his eyes briefly and sinking back into his seat.

"Is something wrong, Admiral Kirk?"

He glanced up into the nervous eyes of one of the Libyan scholars who served as curators in this section of the facility, indicating with a shake of his head and a forced smile that all was well. He relaxed, allowing the message to finish before getting shakily to his feet. The vivid pictures he'd seen, and the implications thereof, were most disconcerting. He had to get to the Fleet communications station at Gibraltar, where he could call HQ in San Francisco and get some additional, concrete information. All business now, he headed for the door.

oooOOOooo

Waiting outside Nogura's office, he realized there was so much more at stake than simply regaining the captain's chair. What he'd learned at the Gib station had caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. The cloud that had destroyed the Klingon ships was on a direct course for Earth. It'd be here in just a few days and judging by what he'd seen, if it decided to annihilate this planet in the same way it had destroyed the Klingons, there was no technology they possessed which would be able to stop it.

Their only hope lay in sending a ship out to meet it, perhaps buying them enough time to discover some way to incapacitate it, or at least, if they found a controlling intelligence behind the unexplained phenomenon, try to communicate with this unknown species and convince it to spare Earth.

The only ship within range was the _Enterprise._ Not even having completed her shakedown cruise yet, the fate of billions of people now rested on an untested new design, a bridge crew that hadn't been in space together for almost three years, a ship full of novices, and an untried captain. He couldn't do anything about the vessel or her crew, but he could sure as hell see that they left with someone at the helm who had experience in these areas. He must succeed at all costs – the survival of the world – and his own he admitted grudgingly – depended on him sitting in the center seat of his ship once again – even if only temporarily.

With all this in mind, he marched into Nogura's office, the very essence of sheer determination.

McCoy – pre-TMP

"This is total bullshit!" he announced hotly, storming into the kitchen where Mark and Joanna were seated at the table. "I won't do it, and there's no way they can make me go."

"Hold on, Pops. Slow down. What's wrong?" This from Mark.

McCoy deposited himself heavily in the chair across from his son-in-law, brandishing the portable reader like a weapon.

"I just received a communiqué from Nogura. Seems they want to recall me to active duty. Well, I'm not going, and I'd sure as hell like to see them try and make me."

"But why, dad? You've been out for almost three years now. Why would they all of a sudden decide they want you back?" Joanna asked, a confused frown settling over her face.

"That's just it – no explanation, no discussion of where I'll be assigned or why, but I've been ordered to report to Starfleet HQ within six hours." The blue eyes were sparking with outrage. "I don't see how they can possibly do it, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna report under my own power," he announced with conviction, slapping the table with his palm. "If they want me they're gonna have to come get me and haul my ass kicking and screaming back to San Francisco." His cheeks glowed a bright red, sweat glistening on his brow, his eyes on fire.

"Now wait a minute, Pops. You can't do that," Mark chimed in, the voice of reason.

"Why not? After two years the option to recall me to active duty expired. I can't see how they'd have a leg to stand on."

"Because they're the military, and if they decide they need you, I'm sure they could dredge up some regulation or other to reinstate your commission," Mark argued rationally.

"Poppycock. They can't draft what they can't find. We may have the technology to travel through space, but there are still enough remote areas on this little planet of ours where I could hide out. Hell, I could even travel to some out-of-the-way colony world. It'd probably take them years to track me down."

"But dad, that'd mean you'd have to go into hiding. Mark and I wouldn't be able to have any contact with you at all. They'd probably watch us like hawks in hopes that we'd lead them to you." Joanna eyes had become large, frightened.

"Joanna's right, and as for getting off world, if you don't show when you're supposed to they're probably gonna have your holo image plastered in every spaceport from here to Mars, as well as all the major hubs that connect the territories within the Federation. They'd be sure to catch you, and that could mean serious jail time, and/or having your medical license revoked among other things. There's a much better way."

"How so?"

"Well, what if you reported as ordered, but made such a pain in the ass out of yourself that they discharged you? As long as you didn't do anything stupid like striking a superior officer or sabotaging Starfleet property, they couldn't incarcerate you. And since you aren't affiliated with any hospital or medical group, a dishonorable discharge would in no way impact your ability to practice medicine. As long as they can't prove incompetence or something along those lines, there's no way they could suspend your license. If they tried to, that's something we could easily fight and win in a civilian court."

McCoy considered that, a wicked grin breaking over his face. "You know, you just might be onto something there, my boy." He clapped Mark smartly on the shoulder.

"And once I had a dishonorable discharge under my belt, I'd be free from any future attempts to call me up." His grin widened. "And we all know just how much of a pain in the ass I can be when I put my mind to it."

He rose swiftly to his feet. "I'd better get packing. The sooner I get there the sooner I can get this over with and head home. Be ready to run me to the Spaceport in twenty minutes. I'll even risk transporting to Starfleet HQ if it will get me home quicker."

Mark and Joanna exchanged a look of sheer incredulity as they heard him run up the stairs to his room, muttering under his breath the whole way.

oooOOOooo

He'd made it with two hours to spare, and now found himself seated in Nogura's reception area, the girl behind the desk regarding him darkly from under her lashes. McCoy realized it was the same secretary who'd been on duty for his last, infamous encounter with the admiral almost three years ago.

_Hold onto you butt, sister,_ he thought silently. _By the time I'm done, I'm gonna make my previous meeting with the admiral seem like an old granny's tea party._

Her voice startled him. "Doctor, the admiral will see you now." Heading for the door he felt her suspicious gaze upon him, noting idly how her finger hovered over the button to summon security.

As the door swished open, he squared his shoulders. With Mark's plan in mind, he decided on swift and decisive action. "Leonard McCoy reporting as ordered Admiral, sir," he intoned, eyes flashing, marching right up to the edge of Nogura's desk, "and you'd better have a damn good reason for recalling me to active duty."

"Ah Doctor, I see you're as disciplined and mindful of proper military decorum as ever," Nogura remarked superciliously.

"Cut the crap. I'm here aren't I, and as such, I think I've earned the right to know why."

He could see the veins in Nogura's neck pulse as the man struggled to remain calm, detached, in a word, civil. "There's a presence out in space that if isn't stopped, would surely put the Earth in grave danger. At the rate it's traveling, it'll reach here in just a few days."

"So what's that got to do with me?" McCoy snapped. "I'm no military man."

"No argument here," Nogura quipped, "But we're sending a starship out to meet the threat, and we'll need experienced medical personnel manning the sickbay."

"What kind of threat?" he asked warily. He had never trusted Nogura. If the man's lips were moving, odds were he was lying.

"You'll be briefed once you report to the _Enterprise—"_

"The _Enterprise_? Isn't Will Decker in command now?" For all his talk of being done with space, he'd found himself inexplicably drawn to news of the vessel that had served as his home for five years. He'd followed reports of her refit and new captain, and was even aware that she wasn't scheduled for her maiden voyage for a few weeks yet. "In charge of a bunch of inexperienced, green kids? You really think they can handle this, if the threat is as serious as you say?"

"Actually, in light of the situation, I reassembled almost all of her old bridge crew, including her former skipper."

"What? You put Jim Kirk in the center seat?" This changed everything. He was sure Jim had had a hand in the decision somehow, but the fact that Nogura had agreed to it at all lent credence to the severity of the situation. The admiral would have to be scared shitless and totally out of options to give Jim a ship of his own again. McCoy had no doubt that it was supposed to be temporary, but knowing his former captain like he did, he was sure that once they defeated this 'threat,' – and with Kirk at the helm they were sure to accomplish their objective – Jim would stop at nothing to make the assignment permanent.

This was an interesting and surprising turn of events. Perhaps Jim had finally come to his senses and realized what a mistake it had been to accept a ground position. It had only taken three years, but maybe common sense had ultimately won out.

He chewed his lower lip before responding. "Okay Admiral, you've got me. When do I report?" he asked, resigned, defeated.

"There's no time like the present," came the immediate response.

oooOOOooo

He opted for a pre-recorded message, unsure he'd be able to hold it together if he spoke to his daughter and son-in-law in real time.

"Hi guys, it's me. Just wanted to let you know I got here safe and sound, and I've been assigned to the _Enterprise_ temporarily. And wouldn't you know it, Jim Kirk managed to get himself placed in command for the time being. As a matter-of-fact, it's his fault I'm here at all – seems he's the one who talked Nogura into drafting me." He scrubbed at his clean-shaven chin.

"It turns out this will be a short-term assignment – only a few days – and then I'll be able to come home." _That is, if there's a home left to come back to,_ he added silently. He'd seen firsthand the awesome power of the unknown entity (Jim had insisted he watch a recording of the video the crew had seen a few hours ago), and given the numerous technical issues still plaguing _Enterprise_, despite Scotty's best efforts to get everything up and running smoothly, he wasn't at all sure they could pull off this miracle.

"We'll be out of contact for those few days, but I'll call you as soon as we get back." He paused to swallow the lump in his throat. "I love you guys. Just wanted to make sure you knew that." And with that he switched off the comm unit, exiting his quarters. They'd be leaving dry dock soon, and since there were no casualties in sickbay – yet – he headed for the bridge to check in briefly with Jim before tackling the task of getting his new workspace ready for what lay ahead.

Spock – pre-TMP

As he knelt before the asenoi in his tiny quarters, he reflected on the path that had led him here, to this point in time.

Tomorrow would mark the culmination of almost three years of intense labor and self-sacrifice; tomorrow he would participate in the ceremony granting him the title of Kolinahru. But before he could stand on the windswept sands and accept the symbol of pure logic from T'Sai, he had one final duty to perform. There was the matter of the tape he had received from Jim shortly after his arrival here. He had yet to view it, and it, along with the termination of his bond of t'hy'la with Jim, were two of the things T'Sai was sure to check in the meld they would share prior to his initiation.

_I am ready,_ he assured himself_. I am not the same man who arrived here adrift, without direction, in turmoil, searching for answers, uncomfortable in my own skin. Thanks to all I have learned I have found my place in the universe, and the discipline of the mind the pursuit of Kolinahr has provided has allowed me to accept and understand Stilek's death, and to bid farewell to McCoy, and Jim, and that portion of my life. By doing so I have managed to assuage all the pain and insecurity of my previous life, and am prepared to embark on a new, fulfilling path._

Certain that he would now be able to view Jim's tape objectively, with complete emotional detachment, he retrieved the article in question, making his way to T'Sai's office.

oooOOOooo

The matriarch looked up at him as he entered. Over his time here, he had become quite adept at reading the emotions others were purportedly masking. Did he detect a hint of amusement in her eyes?

"So child, thee have come to fulfill thy portion of the request made when thee first arrived here?"

"Indeed. I have come to view the tape from my former captain as promised."

"Then I shall leave thee in peace to do so." She rose from her seat, making for the door. "Meditate carefully this evening on what thee sees and hears," she remarked cryptically, an eyebrow raised slightly.

"This shall not impact my decision. I have come to understand that this is the right course for my future; that I belong here."

She deigned not to respond, but favored him with a knowing look before departing.

He closed his eyes briefly before settling into the chair at T'Sai's desk. He looked down, completely dumbfounded, as the hand that placed the tape into the proper slot on the viewer shook slightly. _It is only due to the understandable expectation I am experiencing in anticipation of tomorrow's ceremony. It will be easily remedied after tonight's intense meditation in preparation for my initiation into the Order in the morning._

Drawing a fortifying breath, he slipped the device into the viewer, engaging the machine with the flip of a switch, steeling himself for the first glimpse of his t'hy'la's face in almost three years.

But nothing could have adequately prepared him for that moment.

He couldn't stop his sharp intake of breath as Jim's face filled the screen. Almost instantly, he was wracked with guilt. Jim looked haggard, drawn, as if he hadn't slept in days, his complexion gray, washed out, the usually expressive eyes dull, flat, lifeless.

And it only got worse when Jim started speaking.

"_Spock."_ A lengthy pause. _"I'm not even sure where to begin, except to say how sorry I am for making you feel this was your only choice, your only option." _ A hand raked through his hair, wandering across his face before dropping to the desk. Those liquid amber eyes turned to him searching, questioning, undoubtedly in pain. _"Why didn't you discuss this with me first?" _A flicker of shame crossing Kirk's brow. _"That was stupid – I know precisely why you didn't – I wasn't exactly approachable in the days following DeSalle's death. Not to mention, you knew I would do everything in my power to talk you out of it, and even then you realized what a terrible decision that would be for both of us." _He sighed heavily. _"For a man who always claimed to not understand human emotion, you could be most perceptive when it came to dealing with it, especially in my case."_

Kirk leaned forward, the hazel eyes locking unerringly onto his as if he'd known precisely where to find the Vulcan's eyes. _"I'm sorry, Spock. I was wrong to blame you for DeSalle's death. A few days to look at the situation calmly, rationally, removed from the heat of the moment, have made me realize yours was the right decision, not mine."_

Spock closed his eyes, the apology doing little to ease the sense of loss, or failure. He couldn't stop the thoughts those words evoked. _Jim, it was not just about DeSalle. With regard to the lieutenant I made the proper, logical choice. But would I be able to do so the next time your life was in danger, or at subsequent times? This is where the true problem lies, and it is not your fault, but mine._

Kirk was still speaking: _"It's just that, rational or not, to me it felt like he was sacrificing his life for mine, and that's a situation no commander ever wants__ to find himself in. So I reacted emotionally; I was angry, mad at the world, and I took that anger out on you. I know I've been guilty of this at other times as well, but we've always managed to get past it somehow. I should have realized there'd come a time when I'd push you too far. Frankly, I don't know how you put up with me for all those years."_

Kirk shifted in the chair, leaning back, a hand on his neck, trying to rub the tension from stiff muscles. The chair protested slightly as his former captain's weight came to rest against its high back. Spock found himself unable to look away. _Jim. I did not understand until this moment how keenly I have felt your absence._

The voice on the tape continued: _"But I did a lot of thinking after you left – about you, about our link, and the closeness that has grown up between us over the last five years – and I realized there's more to this than just DeSalle. It's about the safety of those around us. Can either of us make the right choice, if it involves sacrificing the other? At this point, I can't answer that except to say that in this situation I would have done exactly the same thing had our roles been reversed. As usual, you recognized this long before I did, and I know now yours was not an act of desperation, but compassion; an effort to shield me from something that had gotten too big for either of us to handle. Leave it to you to recognize the danger and act swiftly and decisively, but at what cost to you? My friend, when will you ever learn that you are important, too, and worthy of consideration?"_ Kirk's features became pinched, distressed, a frown settling between his brows.

"_I understand your rationale behind the decision, but not your choice. Spock! There were so many other options open to us, if only you'd discussed it with me. We could have found a suitable solution together. One that didn't cost either of us everything._

"_You've always known instinctively how to reign in my impulsive side."_ A smirk appeared suddenly. _"That doesn't mean every attempt was always successful, but you knew exactly what to do and say to get me thinking more carefully about things." _Just as quickly the expression faded. _"I want to thank you for that; to make sure you know how truly grateful I am."_ Kirk paused, brushing the side of his nose with a thumb.

"_That doesn't make your absence any easier to take." _His captain chose that moment to flash his trademark grin and Spock felt it penetrate to the core of his being, where it settled at first as a white-hot ember of intense pain, quickly subsiding to a dull, throbbing ache. For two point eight years now he had worked daily at killing his human side, causing it to cease to exist, walling it off from his psyche stone by stone, brick by brick. Leave it to Jim Kirk to undo all of that in an instant.

"_Not a day goes by that I don't miss you – your calm, rational approach to things, your sound judgment, your reassuring presence at my side, that damned eyebrow raised at me." _He stopped a shadow passing over his face.

"_You know, I suspect McCoy will leave the service, too. I doubt he could handle another deep space mission – I know what it costs him personally when he loses a patient. I told him of my plans to sweet-talk command into giving me another ship and asked him to sign on as my CMO, but I'll be surprised if he agrees to do so. And I don't fault him for that. Selfishly, I wanted him at my side, just as I wanted you there, but deep down I know this would be so wrong for him, just like staying with me would have been the wrong choice for you. I can see this now, clear as day._

"_It's funny how a little distance can add so much clarity to what you thought you knew, or wanted. Would that I'd been able to see things this clearly before you left; maybe if I had I could have helped you to make a better choice for yourself._

"_I realize now that there was so much more to being Captain of the _Enterprise_ than being given that fine ship and crew. I have come to understand that so much of the satisfaction I took in that position was tied to the fact that you and Bones were there with me. So I've decided to take the Chief of Operations job." _Spock's breath exploded from his lungs as if he'd just been kicked in the ribs by a le-matya. _"So no matter what Bones decides, the choice has already been made for him. It was something I had no right to ask of him. And as for me, traveling the stars just won't be the same for me without you two._

"_And maybe you did have the right idea – maybe we all do need a break from each other, some time to evaluate the course of our futures, but I wish your path wasn't so drastic. You know how I feel about this, Spock – I've seen the best of both worlds in you, and I don't want you to lose that._

"_Please don't misunderstand – I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life, but am just expressing my own humble feelings on the matter – for what that's worth to you."_ The hazel eyes searched the viewer once again, touching him in ways he couldn't even begin to explain or understand. _ "I too am honored that I once called you friend, and am hoping against hope that I will have the chance to do so in the future – regardless of whether or not you choose to complete Kolinahr. But I will respect whatever decision you make. This will be the last time I attempt to contact you. If you choose to contact me whenever you have passed through what is to come for you, I will be open to – hell, I'd be overjoyed – to having you in my life again, in whatever capacity you see fit. For you see, I miss you already, Spock."_

He stopped abruptly, and Spock could see him swallow several times in quick succession, Kirk's Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. Incredibly, he found an answering response within himself, his own control in question. Oh how he had fooled himself into believing that he had banished his human half. He almost laughed out loud. It had just lain dormant for these past few years, hidden in the dark recesses of his mind, waiting to be coaxed out into the light once again. And if anyone in the universe were capable of doing so, it was Jim Kirk.

Having composed himself, Kirk continued evenly, _"I'll say goodbye now, Spock, and whether that's for a few years or forever, I can accept that, and am grateful for the time we had together. Live long and prosper, my friend." _And with that, the screen went dark.

What was wrong with him? Why, on the eve of his mastery of Kolinahr had he ever thought this was a wise decision? Feelings which he had carefully concealed, buried and believed banished once and for all began coursing through him with unrivaled intensity. Jim Kirk had always had the power to touch him where others couldn't reach. He realized it was stubborn pride that had made him wait until now to view the tape, wanting to prove to himself that his human half was indeed gone, never to resurface again, and he was dismayed when shame was added to the mix of emotions swirling within him – emotions that he had believed long gone.

Humans tended to have a short attention span, and he firmly believed Jim Kirk was no exception. The fact that he had not responded to the tape in the almost three years since it had been made, coupled with the destruction of their link would surely have made Kirk realize that their friendship was over. This was the hope he clung to desperately, precipitously. As long as he believed this was so, he could again submerge these treacherous emotions with intense meditation, and still be able to complete the ceremony tomorrow morning. With this strategy in mind, he rose on shaky legs, blindly convincing himself it was due to the cold, nothing more, and headed for his room.

oooOOOooo

His meditation of last evening had been successful. He had once again buried his feelings along with his human half, and had said his final goodbyes to Earth and the friends he left behind there earlier this morning. His future was now set. He glanced up from where he knelt in the soft sand before Master T'Sai, squinting in the bright morning sunlight.

She raised her arms, preparing to place the symbol of total logic around his neck when suddenly he was hit again by the powerful consciousness that had briefly touched his mind this morning. Following closely on its heels he experienced thoughts he knew were not his own, or even those of the as yet unknown entity.

_The Klingons weren't destroyed. It feels like…like they've become "wall exhibits in Hell." And it's headed for Earth. Spock, I wish you were here to help me understand._

_Jim? _he called silently before slamming the link closed once again, thrusting his arm up abruptly, stopping T'Sai from completing the ritual. He knew the confusion he was feeling was written clearly on his face, but he was unable to mask the powerful emotions coursing through him at the moment.

"Spock." This from one of the lesser masters.

T'Sai was now regarding him with puzzlement. "Spock, our minds also have felt that far-off 'presence.' Has it special meaning for thee?"

He could only nod mutely, grappling with both fear and shame, and he anticipated T'Sai's next words before they left her lips.

"Spock, thy thoughts. Open them to me."

How could he refuse? He steeled himself for the touch of T'Sai's mind. Soon all would be revealed: his bewilderment, turmoil and indecision, and worst of all his continued emotional attachment to Jim Kirk would be openly on display, impossible to hide from her. He felt her thoughts merge with his.

_So, thee have sensed this consciousness as well? All the masters here have felt its presence, but it has chosen only thy mind to contact in such a deep and personal manner. Explain._

It was not a request, but an order. Spock struggled to keep his emotions in check under this most intimate and invasive scrutiny.

_Before commencement of the ceremony, I was permitting myself the chance to say my final goodbyes to my mother's world and the friends I left behind there. As I was thinking of my former captain, the entity first touched my mind this morning. Just now, as you were preparing to grant me the title of Kolinahru it touched my mind for a second time this day, this violation much deeper than the initial contact. As a result, I felt the bond of t'hy'la, which has been dormant for 2.8 earth years, flare to life again, much stronger than before. I was able to hear my captain speaking to me as if he were standing next to me, whereas in the past, the bond only allowed for the non-verbal communication of vague ideas and feelings._ Despite his best efforts, he felt his cheeks flush hotly beneath his teacher's fingers. But T'Sai's next words came as a complete shock.

_It is as I suspected all along, Spock. Thee have made the incorrect choice. Thy answers do not lie here, but elsewhere,_ she informed him matter-of-factly.

Confusion and hurt clouded his brain for just an instant, before he was able to regain control. _Forgive me, Master, I do not understand. You yourself stated that I have been one of the most promising students to benefit from your tutelage. Surely this one incident which was beyond my control cannot undo all that I have learned and accomplished during my studies here? _

He was stunned as she allowed a bit of laughter to filter through their meld. _Oh my child, thee misunderstands completely. While it is admirable that someone with thy unique heritage has been the equal of, or in some cases surpassed that what is expected of full-blooded Vulcans, thee must be made to recognize that being solely Vulcan is not thy destiny. On a planet full of logical beings, in an area with the highest concentration of strictly ordered and rigorously disciplined minds, this entity chose thee, above all others, to contact. Once again, thee are viewing this as a betrayal, as a taint to your character caused by your human half. This is not a failing child, but your métier in life. It is precisely because of thy dual nature that thee were chosen above all others. Thee are a unique being, Spock and as such are capable of things beyond the scope of possibility for the average Vulcan, or even the average human. I believe this is the quality thy t'hy'la saw in thee, and is what drew you together. This is why his mind reached out to thee at this moment of great need, and why thy mind was receptive to that request. Thy path lies with his, not with ours._

He contemplated that for several long moments before replying. _But Master T'Sai–, _he began hesitantly, haltingly. She quickly stopped him.

_Thee dare question me on this? _ Firm, forceful, once again the headmistress of Gol. _ With all the training thee have undergone here, surely thee must realize the logic behind this? It was precisely for this reason that we insisted thee view the tape from thy captain. It had been hoped thee would reach this conclusion on thy own, but it seems that thee possess one human trait which in thy case surpasses all others, and defies all attempts on thy part to master it – thee are stubborn. A trait we Vulcans have even been known to exhibit on occasion. _ Again, the slight ripple of her laughter, her tone becoming light, once more offering gentle advice, sound counsel. _Thee must go to him, and if after thee have passed through what is to come thee still believe that thee belong here, thee are free to return, and nothing more will be said of the matter._ And with that, he felt her gently withdraw from his mind.

As the masters disappeared into the temple, leaving him alone on the hot, windswept terrace, he bent and retrieved the symbol of pure logic T'Sai had dropped to the sand. He brushed it with long fingers, his mind in complete and utter chaos. _This is only a minor setback. I shall do as Master T'Sai commanded, and return here when I have fulfilled the task she has set for me. It is no different than the other tasks I have undertaken during my journey on the path to true enlightenment. I am prepared to face my demons, and vanquish them once and for all. Once I have accomplished this, I shall then be ready to attain Kolinahr at that time; none shall doubt my worthiness then, and I will finally be at peace._

With no other options open to him he rose to his feet, returning to the stone fortress to begin making arrangements for his journey, preparing to leave the only home he had known for the past three years.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: And once again we come to the end. What happened in the interim between the 5-year mission and TMP is something that bothered me for years, but until recently, I never in my wildest dreams imagined that I'd be offering an explanation. And I have all of you to thank for that; those of you (thefallingstar, KCS, T'Paya, et al) who at the end of SDoS asked me, "what happens next?" To be quite honest, I hadn't intended to write a sequel, but you got me thinking, and asking questions, and S&D was born. I hope it didn't disappoint…

**Chapter 6**

Kirk – post TMP

Kirk sat alone in his quarters, reflecting on the events of the past twenty-four hours. Two fine officers had given their lives today, but were they really gone, or had they simply transcended to a higher level of consciousness?

He experienced a pang of guilt at the loss. He'd pushed Decker into an emotional attachment to the probe bearing Ilia's face. In the end, that is what had saved them, saved Earth from complete annihilation, but had he had the right to do so?

_What choice did I have?_ came the quick-fire answer to his rhetorical question. Ilia had died the moment V'Ger had taken her, and while Decker had ceased to exist as the person they knew, was he truly dead? Spock had described what they witnessed as a birth, and he'd been inclined to agree with that assessment. Besides, Decker had insisted it was what he wanted. In their previous lives, as long as one of them was beholden to Starfleet, there was no chance of a relationship between the young captain and his Deltan navigator. This had given each what they truly desired. Somehow, when he looked at things from this perspective, it made their losses slightly easier to bear. It had been almost three years since he'd had to choose who would live and who would die. Unfortunately, the choice didn't get any easier.

His thoughts now turned to Spock. _My friend, where will you go from here? I was elated to hear that you would not be returning to Vulcan to complete Kolinahr, but the issues between us are still the same. Can we work together without jeopardizing those others around us? I've learned a lot over these past few years, most importantly that I miss having you at my side. I didn't fully realize just how much your presence had come to anchor me until it was gone, and I found myself lost, adrift for a time. However, I now know I can survive, even function without you if I have to, and as such, I don't fear your loss the way I once did._

_But what have these three years apart taught you? When you first appeared on the ship, I was afraid the man I had known was gone for good, never to resurface again, but it seems V'Ger gave you the answers you sought. Now the question remains: Where will those answers take you? Over the course of the last day I watched your emotional pendulum swing from one extreme to the other. So where does that leave you? Will it finally settle somewhere in the middle? Is that what you want? And where do your previous relationships – with your parents, with the crew, with McCoy…with me – fit in to all of this? _

_I saw the spark of my old friend reemerge from his self-imposed prison of non-emotion, of separation from all those you once knew and cared about, but will this pattern continue? Or was it the heat of the moment that made you laugh and cry; that made you cling to me in sickbay like a dying man fighting for his last breath?_

_I don't have the answers – they lie squarely with you and I refuse to push and take the chance of driving you away once again. The choice is yours, my friend, and I will respect whatever decision you make._

These thoughts were interrupted by the buzzer to his quarters. "Come," he called softly, depressing the switch to disengage the lock.

The sight that met his eyes made his breath catch in his throat. Spock was standing just inside the doors, hesitant, unsure…

McCoy – post TMP

He sat before the comm unit, staring at the blank screen. The last two and a half years had been wonderful – their rocky past notwithstanding, he had managed to reconnect with his daughter on a level he would not have thought possible. He had promised to never leave her again; as a matter-of-fact, on that auspicious day almost three years ago when he had confronted Nogura in his office, he had vowed to never set foot on a starship again – yet he felt compelled to remain here. Not out of a sense of duty to Starfleet, or even a sense of obligation to Jim and Spock, but because during his time in space he had made a difference. He'd discovered new and innovative medical techniques that were now being incorporated into standard therapeutic procedures throughout the Federation. That's where his true passion lay, and he would not have been able to pursue and refine these advances had it not been for the time he spent aboard the _Enterprise._ In a flash of inspiration he realized this summed up the philosophy of Kaiidth. This was where the universe meant for him to be, and where he could do the most good, contribute to bettering the lives of others.

As much as he had enjoyed being back home and ministering to the neighborhood and people who had watched out for him as a child, he realized that he could give more to the medical community out on the front lines of his chosen profession, standing on the cutting edge of new medical breakthroughs and advancements.

He took a fortifying breath and keyed in the numbers to connect him to his daughter. In a few moments her face filled the screen.

"Dad! Thank God you're okay!" He watched her eyes drink him in, a wide smile on her face and a tear of relief sliding down her cheek. "I'm assuming that whatever crisis caused you to be recalled to active duty has been averted?"

How insightful of her to realize it had been a matter of life and death. "Yeah. Our mission was successful." He didn't dare say anything more.

"That's great! Then you'll be home soon?" She didn't give him a chance to respond. "Mark and I can't wait for you to get back. We have news – oh daddy, I'm pregnant!" She was beaming, Mark coming to stand behind her, a gentle hand rested on her shoulder.

He was torn between that joyous news and his own selfish reason for this call. He put on his best happy face. "Oh honey, that's terrific! I'm tickled pink," he said sincerely, positively delighted by those glad tidings.

"It's a girl dad, and we've already decided on a name for her – Amanda Aurelan Kinney. These two men have meant more to both of us than we can ever make them understand. Even though I haven't met them face-to-face I feel like I know them – like they're my surrogate uncles or something – after listening to all your stories about them, and this is my way to thank them for keeping you safe for all those years." The sheer delight of the moment was etched on her face.

"Jim and Spock will be pleased," he stated, his voice unable to muster the genuine enthusiasm he felt.

"Dad, what's wrong? There's something you're not telling me." There was that look again. It never ceased to amaze him how accurately she'd learned to assess his moods in the short time they'd been together.

"Our mission was successful, but captain Decker was killed in the process. Now there's nothing standing in Jim's way – he should be reinstated as captain of the _Enterprise,_" he admitted miserably, averting his eyes.

"I see." He glanced up from under his lashes, watching as she carried that statement to its logical conclusion. "And you've decided to stay on as his CMO."

"The decision isn't carved in stone yet. I wanted to run it by you first." A heavy weight settled somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach.

"It's too bad Mr. Spock is still on Vulcan – it'd be a chance for the three of you to be together again, doing what you love most." Her look was altruistic, obviously wanting what was best for him.

"Ironically enough, Spock _is_ here. I don't know how the hell he does it, but that damned Vulcan managed to show up just when we needed him most. At first, his motives were a little suspect, but he came around eventually." An unsolicited feeling of affection tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Then it's all settled. Of course you have to stay. And you know, dad, I think they need you more than I do." She stopped and grinned. "Whoops – that didn't come out right at all. You know I love you dad, and I'll always need you, but I've come into my own during these last three years thanks to you. I'm not that scared, unsure little girl anymore who was afraid to step out of her comfort zone.

"And you, for all your talk of being home and having both feet planted firmly on the ground, I got the impression that you missed your time in space, your time with your friends. It's okay to let go, daddy – I don't see it as rejection now, but as the normal progression of life. I'll always be your little girl and you'll always be my dad, but we each have to pursue what's important to us. Yes, you made a difference here on Earth, but you can make a bigger one in space.

"And Mark has stepped easily into the practice, the clients love him almost as much as they loved you. So you don't have to worry about them – they'll be taken care of, too. And I think if you think about this carefully, and consider it from all sides, you'll come to the same conclusion. Some of the research and new medical techniques you developed would never have come about without your experiences in space. That's where you can do the most good, and that's what you should strive to do. A very wise man once taught me that," she finished, beaming at him.

He could only stare mutely at the screen, his eyes burning, trying to draw breath around the tightness in his throat. God, he loved this child. Of all the things he had done in his life, she was by far the best. "Honey are you sure? I promised I'd never leave you again, and I meant it."

"That promise was made to a different person. I'm not that same girl anymore, and I certainly wouldn't be selfish enough to deprive the galaxy of the things you can offer it. You're my dad, and always will be, but it's time for us to go our separate ways. That doesn't mean we don't love each other, or aren't important to one another, but it's time for a new chapter in our lives. I get that now, dad, and don't want to be the one who holds you back, who keeps you from living up to your potential. Go for it, daddy – it's what you were born to do." She graced him with a sweet smile, full of heartfelt warmth and pride.

"I love you, Dandy Lion, you know that?" he said, his voice none too steady, absently wiping at an eye.

She winked back at him. "I've never doubted that for a second, daddy." He saw her look shift slightly, and it tugged at his heartstrings. "So when will you be shipping out?"

"Not for a few weeks yet, I'm sure," he informed her, his voice regaining strength as they slipped onto firmer emotional turf. "We're in orbit now, and the ship still needs some work, but Jim isn't officially captain of the _Enterprise_ yet. Frankly I'd be surprised if it takes him more than five minutes to make that happen after he meets with the Starfleet brass. Beyond that, I have no idea when they'd send us out again, but I'm certain there'd be enough time before we have to leave for you to finally meet Jim and Spock."

"I'd love that, dad." He could see her eyes well with tears, but the look on her face left no doubt that they were tears of joy.

"Now that you're a married woman I don't have to worry about Jim Kirk working his charm on you." They both grinned spontaneously at that. "Look honey, I've gotta run, but I'll call you as soon as I know anything definite, okay?"

"Deal. Mark and I will be looking forward to seeing the three of you." She covered the hand on her shoulder with her own. "Talk to you soon, dad. Love you. Oh and by the way, you look much better without the beard." And with a mischievous chuckle, the screen went dark.

Now all that was left to do was to go and talk to Jim.

Spock – post TMP

He retreated to the solitude of his quarters, feeling the emotions of those around him fall away as the doors slid closed. He had not brought an asenoi with him; in all honesty he hadn't intended to remain here at all.

He knelt in the middle of the room, eyes closed, pressing his hands together as if immersed in prayer, a deep, full breath serving to center him. Once his meld with V'Ger had demolished his shields, he'd been at the mercy of those emotions swirling around him: Fear that they wouldn't succeed, pride and relief that they had, satisfaction that they had performed well, joy at being reunited with old friends, love for their families that would now survive, and remorse and sorrow for those lives lost.

He'd been working at rebuilding his defenses bit by bit in an effort to at least allow him to function, but the process had been proceeding slowly. This was the first chance he'd had to be alone since that moment which had turned his view of the world completely upside down, and he set about the task decisively. While joining with V'Ger's mind had served as an epiphany for the course his life would now take, he was unprepared to be among his former shipmates once again without some measure of protection. He had lived the last three years under strict mental control, unused to the emotional turmoil present on a ship full of humans.

He felt the quiet surround him, soothing his frazzled nerves as he reached for the known, the familiar, the customary. And yet, somehow this meditation was different, tempered by what he had seen and experienced in the mind of V'Ger.

The alien consciousness had shown him definitively the futility of denying his human half; in spite of this he knew without question that he still wouldn't allow it to dominate his personality. He had spent his whole life up to now living as a Vulcan; that couldn't simply be undone. He would find a way to make both sides of his personality work together, maybe not harmoniously at all times, but he would never again deny one in favor of the other. Each had a place and a purpose in his life. People had been telling him this for most of his life. Until V'Ger, he just hadn't been able to see it, or more accurately, to believe it.

Words spoken by his mother, by Jim Kirk, McCoy, Stilek and T'Sai vied for his attention. Although each had made their point differently, ultimately the messages were the same – he could be the best of both worlds, if only he would permit it. V'Ger had made him understand fully the necessity of doing so.

Thoughts of Stilek caused his chest to tighten involuntarily. He knew his friend would be pleased with him. T'Sai had been most perceptive. They _had_ helped each other. Once Spock understood fully Stilek's reason for coming to Gol, he had done all in his power to assist his friend on the path to Kolinahru. With Spock directing his efforts, he had progressed much more quickly than before.

And Stilek had helped him, the first full-blooded Vulcan who ever told him he shouldn't be ashamed of, but should celebrate, his human half. It occurred to him that T'Sai had known this all along, but had she been the one to present that idea to him, he would have dismissed it outright; seen it as undeniable proof that none of the masters believed he would be able to conquer the mind disciplines necessary to attain Kolinahr, and he would have stubbornly redoubled his efforts. He began to see those who had mastered Vulcan's most difficult mental undertaking in a whole new light – they were wise, indeed.

He experienced a twinge of regret that his friend had been unable to fully grasp the discipline of the mind necessary to survive Pon Farr in the time available to him, but unlike the guilt that had driven him to Gol, Spock didn't allow it to consume him. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried, or didn't want his friend to succeed. Some things just were. Kaiidth. Stilek had taught him much, about what it truly meant to be a Vulcan, and about himself. He would not forget, and would find a way to honor his friend's memory.

This friend might be gone, but he had been given a second chance with respect to his other two friends. And he would be sure to take full advantage of that most precious of gifts. Climbing to his feet, he made for the door to his quarters.

He needed to find Jim Kirk.

oooOOOooo

"Captain, request permission to enter."

Kirk was on his feet in an instant.

"Of course, Spock; please come in." A beat. "And please sit down," his captain said with a wry grin, gesturing to the chair across the desk as he settled back into his own.

This time, Spock sat without hesitation, but remained silent, unexpectedly and uncharacteristically unsure where, or how, to begin.

Sensing Spock's discomfort, Kirk took the initiative. "I didn't have a chance to say so before, but I want to thank you. Without your help I have no doubt we wouldn't have solved the mystery of V'Ger in time to prevent the destruction of Earth."

Spock refrained from speaking, instead nodding imperceptibly, acknowledging the complement before shifting in his seat. The silence stretched between them. Kirk's face was unreadable and he felt his determination waver.

"If now is an inopportune time, I can return when it suits you," Spock offered, suddenly overcome with trepidation. What if too much had happened over the past three years? What if he had hurt Kirk beyond the human's capacity for forgiveness?

"No, you aren't interrupting anything that can't wait. I just finished the letters to Decker's and Ilia's families, and now I'm working on McCoy's discharge papers." A beat. "I can start on yours as well."

"Thank you, sir, but that will not be necessary." He drew a steadying breath.

"If that's the case, then I suppose it's safe to assume you won't be completing your training at Gol?" A simple request for information, asked without allusion or expectation.

"This mission has afforded me the answers I sought; there is no longer any need for me to do so." Succinct. To the point.

He watched Kirk assimilate that, a wistful, ephemeral smile breaking over his captain's face. "I can't say I'm disappointed, Mr. Spock. You would have lost so much of what makes you you." He paused, a question forming in the hazel eyes. Years of close contact with the man told Spock unequivocally that it wasn't the one his captain asked next. Despite Kirk's reticence, that told him all he needed to know. Relief flooded him.

"So, what are your plans then? Perhaps a posting to a Vulcan Science vessel?"

"Negative. It is no longer my destiny to walk solely among others of my kind. It will not provide me with what I require."

Kirk's eyes swiveled to his as his captain asked hesitantly, "and exactly what is it that you _do_ require?"

"Expression," he responded immediately, knowing Kirk would remember the one other time he had given that answer.

His captain digested that admission in silence, understanding softening his features, relief playing about his eyes as well.

"You told me once that I would have to decide for myself how much emphasis I should place on the approbation of my people, and what, in the end, mattered the most to me." Spock stopped abruptly, his innate desire for privacy at war with his need to put his jumbled thoughts into words. Unfortunately, the years of denial and repression were not instantly undone by his encounter with the powerful alien consciousness. He fought to make his point, to ensure that Kirk understood fully the enormity of what he was trying to say.

"During my time at Gol, I did receive this acceptance from my peers. All doubted that a mere half-Vulcan could attain Kolinahr, and most were taken aback at my mastery over myself; in some ways it rivaled, even surpassed that of full-blooded candidates. I had finally obtained the approval I had subconsciously spent so many years seeking, and yet it still left me cold, empty, searching for answers." His eyes shifted to Kirk's, trying to express that which he was unable to say verbally, his inner turmoil swirling in their inky depths.

"I did not view the tape you sent me until a few days ago." He found himself unable to meet his captain's steady gaze, focusing instead on the stylus Kirk had set on his desk, the internal struggle now evident in the set of Spock's jaw, his stiff demeanor, his whispered confession.

"After two point eight years of intense training, I had convinced myself that your words would have no influence on me whatsoever." A lengthy pause. "It would seem that conclusion was reached in error." Again, a long moment of silence between them, the tension thick, heavy. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Kirk forcibly restrain himself from speaking, trying to afford Spock the time necessary to adequately express his thoughts before Jim clouded the waters with his own, his captain also dropping his gaze, lips tightly compressed, a hand folded around his chin.

"As usual, your words touched me on a level unattainable by others. Hearing your voice, seeing your face, was enough to stir all those old sentiments within me, despite the rigors of control I had mastered. It was that level of closeness between us which prompted V'Ger to touch my mind, and I found the link, which I had so carefully and painstakingly walled off, had flared back to life, much stronger and deeper than it was before." Lifting his head, his eyes sought and locked with Kirk's. "I heard you, Jim – not just the tenuous feelings or amorphous thoughts that marked the link in the past – but actual words. I heard you ask for my help, and found myself unable to refuse that request."

He could see a look of shock cross Kirk's face at that revelation, followed rapidly by one of embarrassment, remorse, regret. "I'm sorry, Spock. I didn't mean—"

"Jim, do not apologize." Strong emotions flared in the obsidian eyes. "I firmly believe now that it was fate, kaiidth, the will of the gods – whatever you wish to call it – that interceded at that moment. That kept me from making that decision, from turning my back on my human side. I know now this is a path that would have proved disastrous for me. My future lies elsewhere. It is my wish—"

"Spock, don't," Kirk interrupted quickly. "Don't say anything else. You don't have to." An awkward pause. "We said everything that needed to be said between us for the moment in sickbay." Now it was Kirk's turn to talk without speaking.

Without warning, Spock felt the link they shared spontaneously open, the mental barrier separating them suddenly shattered. He was instantly bombarded with Kirk's thoughts, knowing his own were assaulting his captain's mind in much the same manner. Kirk's initial feelings of astonishment changed quickly to joy, and then, inexplicably, hesitation. He felt Kirk struggle to tone down the emotions which were flowing unchecked across the slender thread.

His captain licked his lips before locking eyes with his former First. "I meant what I said when I promised to respect your choice, whatever that was. It's not my place to influence that decision. The course your life will now take must be totally up to you." Jim was regarding him earnestly, no amount of control able to mask the depth of his feelings.

The corners of Spock's mouth turned up and he graced Kirk with the slightest of smiles. "Master T'Sai expressed the same sentiment as well. Despite my almost three years of training, she informed me that the answers to my unique situation lay elsewhere, and V'Ger, and you, have provided them. My life has been and always shall be here, aboard the _Enterprise_, at your side. She has become my home, you and her crew my family. This is where I belong, I am sure of it now. I was foolish to have ever left."

He watched as Kirk's look of uncertainty changed to one of relief. "Me too, Spock. McCoy told me I'd lose myself if I couldn't be out among the stars, and it seems he was right." He stopped suddenly. "But there's more to it than just that. As much as I've always known my place was traveling the cosmos, it was being out there with you and McCoy, being captain of this fine ship and crew that made it worthwhile. I didn't realize until recently how very much I missed that, needed that." Loss and grief skimmed briefly over his captain's features.

He watched as Kirk's look turned introspective. "But I did learn something over the past three years. It taught me that I can go on without you. It was unpleasant and one of the hardest things I've ever done, but it made me realize that I can persevere, and even get by alone, if need be." He paused, the hazel eyes traveling swiftly over Spock's face.

"As have I. Perhaps this represents the answer to the question we were both asking ourselves at the end of the five-year mission."

"Yes, I believe it does." That boyish grin again; the one he used to charm the very angels from the feet of God. Spock found it still affected him much as it always had. "Too bad it took us three years to figure that out."

Kirk's look became distant, suffused with affection, as a new thought struck him. "You know, it's ironic that of the three of us, only McCoy was smart enough to do what was right for him. While I was just going through the motions of living for the last three years, Bones was thriving. He started his own practice in Georgia, and managed to reconnect with his daughter. Joanna is now married, and she and her husband both live and work with him. At first he was really upset with me for requesting him for this mission. Can you imagine that?" No hint of subtlety. Openly good-natured, teasing.

"'An emotional scene which brought the house down,' no doubt." Delivered in Spock's calm, even, measured tones, but laughter swam in the Vulcan's eyes.

Kirk chuckled softly in response. "You've got that right. It's just part of his charm, and I wouldn't have him any other way."

"I am forced to agree with you, Jim."

"I'll be sorry to see him go." The tension in the room had eased considerably as both men slipped effortlessly into their established behavioral patterns of the past. Kirk's grin widened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but the words were drowned out as the buzzer to his cabin sounded a second time, effectively halting this jaunt into familiar territory.

**Epilogue**

McCoy entered without preamble, not waiting for permission to be granted. Seeing the two of them together he hesitated, not wanting to interrupt what his gut told him was a deep, personal conversation, but Kirk waved him in, indicating the empty seat in front of his desk. He looked askance at Spock, who nodded slightly.

"If now's a bad time I can come back later," he offered contritely, coming to a stop in front of the proffered chair. If the two of them were finally connecting, he surely didn't want to come between that.

"Don't be ridiculous. We were just talking about you," Kirk responded immediately. "Weren't your ears burning?"

"No, but maybe if I had ears the size of Spock's they would've been." He sat heavily, his gaze shifting rapidly between the two, his mock cynicism turning sober all of a sudden. "All good, I hope."

"As a matter-of-fact, I was just finishing the paperwork to terminate your recall to active duty. You should be able to head home in just a few hours," Kirk informed him somewhat reluctantly, all trace of humor instantly evaporating.

McCoy cleared his throat nervously. "Well, you might want to rethink that, Jim."

"How so? Don't tell me Nogura's already assigned you somewhere else?" A concerned frown had settled between Kirk's brows.

"I'd like to see him try," McCoy answered hotly. "If that man thinks I'd go willingly, without a fight, just because he ordered me to, then he has no idea who he's dealing with." He paused, pursing his lips before continuing in a rush, "Do you want to know how fast I could set him up with a particularly severe case of Capellan Intestinal Flu? I can guarantee you his ass would be glued to the head for at least a week." He glanced at Spock, whose eyebrow had disappeared beneath his bangs at this vitriolic comment.

"Bones, you wouldn't," Kirk responded with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"The hell I would! Just watch me." Taking a deep, calming breath he began again. "Fortunately he hasn't tried, at least not yet. Do you think he's finally given up on me?" McCoy sounded hopeful.

"I'm quite sure he gave up on you long ago – you can subject a man to the discipline of the military, but that doesn't mean he'll have military discipline," Kirk supplied, the erudite statement a curious mix of wit and truth.

"Amen to that!" McCoy was grinning widely. "Does this mean we can now add 'warrior poet' to your vast repertoire, Jim?"

Kirk responded with a subdued chuckle and a reproachful shake of the head. McCoy continued, the acerbic wit and levity shelved for the moment. "So what are your plans, Captain?"

"I would think that would be obvious, especially considering you were the one who insisted three years ago that I shouldn't give up my command, coupled with the fact that the _Enterprise_ is now without her captain." The hazel eyes were more alive than he'd seen them since the end of the five-year mission. "I've decided it's time to do something about that."

"Come to your senses at last, have you? Sure as hell took you long enough." A beat. "And what about you, Mr. Spock? If you aren't returning to Vulcan, then what's next for you?" he asked, shifting his intense gaze to the phlegmatic, impassive face.

"It would seem V'Ger has ultimately allowed me to see the folly of denying my human half. All my life, others have tried to help me understand this, but I did not experience true enlightenment until I had first-hand contact with the empty, barren shell that was V'Ger, seeing for myself the effects of the sterility of existence that is born out of total non-emotion. Completing Kolinahr will no longer be necessary. My place is here, on this ship."

"Well it's a relief to see you've finally realized that total logic's not all it's cracked up to be." He grinned openly at the Vulcan.

"I would not go so far as to say that, Doctor," Spock admonished gently, thinking of T'Sai and the other masters at Gol. Somehow, it was right for them.

"Really? Well in the words of Rabindranath Tagore, 'A mind all logic is like a knife all blade. It makes the hand bleed that uses it.'" When he had accidentally stumbled across that quote almost two years ago, his vision had blurred suddenly as he realized he would probably never have the chance to spring these words on the Vulcan. At the moment he was positively reveling in the opportunity. _Let's see you come up with a smart-assed response to _that, he thought, quite pleased with himself.

Spock's eyebrow took wing again, the Vulcan catching his lower lip between his teeth before answering, "Crudely put, but essentially correct, at least in my case." The soft brown eyes met his.

"Am I hearing this right? Are you actually _agreeing_ with me, Spock?" McCoy could not have been more shocked.

"I am merely indicating that given the evidence presented by recent events, there is some merit to this statement," the Vulcan assured him, his look innocent, completely ingenuous.

"Well, I never thought in a million years I'd be saying this but hooray for printed circuits and scary, super-advanced alien technology."

"Why Bones, you old softie. I always knew you had it in you," Kirk chimed in, favoring McCoy with a smug grin.

"And if either of you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll deny I ever said it."

"Don't worry Bones, your secret's safe with us." The captain smiled affectionately at the gruff surgeon, but it was fleeting. His look became solemn, reflecting his next words. "It would seem that the course for our futures is set. So what's next for you, Bones?"

"Right. Well, if you're both bound and determined to stay aboard this ship, then someone needs to be here to watch out for you two knuckleheads – Lord knows neither of you have a lick of common sense when it comes to self-preservation." He favored each with a stern look in turn.

"Can I take that to mean you're volunteering to stay on as my CMO?" Kirk was genuinely surprised at this unexpected turn of events.

"Against my better judgment, but that seems to be my destiny. I just finished talking to Joanna, and she told me unequivocally that I should stay here. She seems to think it's where I belong." Mention of his daughter brought an unexpected softness to his features. Incredulously. "You know Jim, she even said that the _Enterprise_ needs me more than she does right now. Wonder where I've heard that idea before?" He locked eyes with Kirk, who grinned in response, the look he exchanged with McCoy saying much between them.

The captain then turned his attention to the Vulcan. "Can't argue with that logic, right Mr. Spock?" The dark head nodded in affirmation.

A long, uncomfortable silence ensued. McCoy was the first to break it. "So, uh, where do we go from here?" he asked quietly.

"Logically, the next step would be for the captain to request permanent assignment as the new commander of the _Enterprise,_" Spock supplied matter-of-factly. "Once that has been accomplished, the rest should follow."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "No shit, Sherlock. Call me crazy, but I have no idea how I managed to get by for the last three years without you around to state the glaringly obvious for me, Spock." Thick with sarcasm.

Ignoring that comment, the Vulcan forged ahead. "An interesting, if colorful choice of metaphors, Doctor. As it turns out, I do have an Earth ancestor, far removed, of course, who went by that name."

"Oh for the love of God, Spock," McCoy retorted in an exasperated voice. "I really thought that recent events had given you a new perspective on things, but I can see you haven't changed one bit. You're the same old strait-laced, pain in the ass you always used to be." A pause. Softly. "And I guess that makes me a masochist, because I actually _missed_ this."

Both their heads snapped to Kirk as a strangled snort escaped his lips.

"All right Jim, somehow I missed the joke. You mind telling me just what the hell's eating _you_ now?"

By way of reply, Kirk dissolved into a fit of breathless laughter. When he was able to speak again, his answer was simple. "Me too, Bones, me too."

They were home at last.

Finis

oooOOOooo

Three songs served as inspiration for this piece: 'Afterglow' by Genesis, 'Guide Vocal' by Genesis, and 'Where Are We Going From Here?' by Blackmore's Night. All three are on youtube; I'll let you decide which songs inspired which parts. ;-)


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